


12 Days

by heibai



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 12 days of christmas filled with cute dates between 'friends', Blow Jobs, College AU, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Rated T for Mild Language, added tags as the story is growing:, awkward acquaintance to friends to lover speed run, but you can say this is a slowburn too, fluff fluff fluff, mark has his own fan group, mark is a questioning mess, no beta we die like men, pining pining pining, renjun is super smitten, sexual awakening, this has an element of chat fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28304079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heibai/pseuds/heibai
Summary: On the twelfth day of Christmas, Mark Lee gave to me...Two broke students stuck to spend their winter holiday together in a country that's not theirs... what will they do?
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun & Mark Lee, Huang Ren Jun/Mark Lee
Comments: 13
Kudos: 65
Collections: NCTV Secret Santa 2020





	1. 0 1  -  0 6

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cindyginthedia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cindyginthedia/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //before we embark on this journey please _please_ pardon any grammar nonsense ok//

On the **first** day of winter holiday… 

Renjun slept

  
  


_ _ _

  
  


On the **second** day of winter holiday, Renjun got woken up at 11.34 AM with the grating buzz of his apartment’s intercom. 

An intercom that’s never been used before, actually.

So he jumped out of his bed and ran to it, screaming, “WHAT HAPPENED?!” Because well, he thought there was a _fire_ in the building. Why else would the intercom be used, his juvenile mind thought. Stranger’s inquiry? _Impossible!_

He was surprised to then hear, instead of a panicked scream of his landlady, an equally surprised voice crackling to life out of the dusty speaker. 

_“I… uh,- Renjun, isn’t it?”_ The way his name tumbled out of this person’s mouth... like it was the first time he’s ever said it out loud. _“Is this Renjun?”_

The remaining drowsiness, combined with the way his adrenaline has turned his head into a balloon pumped full with helium, caused him to not even hesitate before answering to the inquiry. “Speaking?” Realisation hit him, literally, when he smacked his grimy forehead against the thin apartment wall right after. 

This is why all his friends told him he would die first if they ever found themselves in a horror movie. 

_“Hey! So uh,- hi!”_ The unknown door-ringer cleared his nerves with a sharp cough, and remained unknown no more, _“hi, it’s Mark? Mark Lee, I mean.”_

Hearing that, Renjun dazedly pulled himself away from the wall and spent a good fifteen seconds staring at the darkened patch on the paint job caused by the oils on his forehead. Shock, after shock, after panic, after surprise, after _another_ surprise. The quota of his _losing-my-shit_ has been spent in the first three minutes of his day alone that it caused him to be able to respond to the wild revelation with an out of character calmness. 

_“Hello? Are you still,-”_

“Mark? What the heck are you doing here?” The small laughter he forced out at the end of his question nearly caused him to choke on his own tonsils.

_“I was doing some errands in the area,”_ Mark blabbered, _“and I was like, ‘wait, this is Renjun’s apartment!’ and I thought, you know, it’s nearly twelve and I was wondering if, maybe, you’d like to go grab some lunch?”_

Renjun swallowed. His saliva, and his tonsils, perhaps. His uvula too, maybe. He sounded like a choked mouse when he spoke next.

“Like, right now?”

_“Like right now, right now.”_

Renjun felt numb, like he was floating in the limbo between a dream and lucidity.

But when he pinched his right earlobe, it hurt. 

“Give me five minutes,” he said. Renjun then pulled his finger away from the speaker button, exaggeratedly, like it suddenly heated up to the temperature of the surface of the sun, and immediately barreled down to the bathroom because good lord heaven above, he hasn’t taken a shower in two days. 

Surely, he couldn't appear like a stray dog in front of his secret crush, _could he?_

  
  


_

  
  


_‘Mark???’_ _  
__-long john_

_‘Sorry, wrong number.’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘Don’t you fucking dare, you little shit_ _  
__Did you say anything weird to Mark?!?!?!?!’  
_ _-long john_

_‘????? the fuck????’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘HE APPEARED IN MY APARTMENT!’  
_ _-long john_ _  
  
_

_‘_ ** _IN_ ** _YOUR APARTMENT?!  
_ _What a creep’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘DONGHYUK!!!’  
_ _-long john_

_‘For fuck’s sake! I have no idea what’s happening!_ _  
__What did he do???’  
_ _-Big D_

 _‘He’s taking me out to lunch’  
_ _-long john_

_‘👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀’_ _  
__-Big D_

_‘DID YOU SEND HIM OVER OR NAH????????’  
_ _-long john_

_‘WHY WOULD I DO THAT??_ _  
__O shit wait  
_ _I did tell him you’re the only one that’s_ _  
__not going anywhere for the holidays’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘??????!!!!??!?!??!??!??!?!’  
_ _-long john_  
  


_

  
  


“Soooo tomorrow I’ll pick you up at eleven. Cool?”

Lunch came and went. Ramen shop. Cheap. Warm. Filling. Quick (that’s the most important). 

Renjun thought he would then be released from the awkward shackles of having to spend some one-on-one time with Mark without the noise buffer that would usually be provided by the rest of their friend group. But of course. 

Coffee. 

They still had to go out and close the outing with _coffee._

Renjun took a deep sip of his iced latte and shrugged, “yeah, I mean, why not.” 

He was cornered. Literally. Sitting at the corner before he was then so kindly prepositioned by someone he just, for the love of god, couldn’t say _no_ to. 

“Bet it’s gonna be _fun,”_ he muttered into his straw. 

Mark laughed at that. “Good.” He leant back on his chair and ran his fingers through his toffee brown hair, “kinda worried there. I would’ve died from boredom if I had to do holidays alone.”

Mark, just like him, was an international student. Foreigners, stranded at a strange country due to, well, _monetary_ reasons while all their native comrades decided to betray them and spend their winter at tropical paradises. 

(Or Russia, in Jaemin’s case, for some odd reason.)

But Mark, unlike him, was a tried and tested social animal. So the upcoming stretch of days, which, for Renjun was a godsend as now it means he could do his schoolwork in _peace,_ was for Mark a sort of personally curated torture device. 

Thus, there they were.

Mark told him that Yukhei, his house mate, another international student that betrayed them both, has just left on an outbound flight that morning to Thailand. Donghyuk left yesterday for Bali, that he knew. And they both laughed at the fact that of course Jeno was the first to go uncontactable, most likely as he has stranded himself half way through the globe for a cross-country marathon race in Australia, or something. 

“We _have_ to make them regret they left us behind.” 

“Oh man, be careful _._ You really don’t want to awaken my competitive gremlin.” 

Renjun surprised himself with how a little kick of sugar and caffeine was all it took to let loose a few words he normally wouldn’t have said to the popular, sophisticated, _totally-out-of-his-league_ Mark Lee. It showed, from how his eyes shot open in surprise before he let out a laughter so free, so _loud,_ that it caused the busy cafe to fall into a momentary hush at the sound of it ringing through the room. 

“Perfect! Wake him up! We’ll need him!” He said, and the silent bubble burst together with the sound of his palm slapping onto thighs so excitedly. It also, fortunately, managed to jump-start Renjun’s heart that’d momentarily stopped from shock, from joy, or maybe from being smitten way beyond all human comprehension. He didn’t really know, the _why,_ and he didn’t care enough to want to find out. 

_Unfair,_ Renjun found himself thinking as he fiercely stirred his coffee, staring at its muddy, foamy surface in the hopes that it would obscure his quickly warming face from Mark’s sight. 

You know, there are several reasons why Renjun never really wanted to pursue his secret feelings towards Mark. The fact that the guy’s too charming for his own good it left everyone who knew him in love with him is one of them. 

He took a quick peek at Mark when he was distracted from answering messages on his phone. His hair bobbed every three seconds when he read or typed up a silly response to whatever conversation he was engaged in. 

Toffee brown hair… Renjun looked back down to his cup of coffee. Toffee nut latte… 

If he was fifteen, he would say that they were meant to be. 

  
  
  


_ _ _

  
  


On the **third** day of winter holiday, Renjun went around the city with Mark…

Buying presents. 

“Do you think this is good?” Mark asked. He pulled a gaudy bright purple blouse from one of the racks and pulled the hanger over his head before he turned, this way and that, in the middle of the store.

“For _who?!_ Your _grand aunt???”_ Renjun asked, exasperated, and embarrassed beyond measure, as he could sense, and actually, well, _see,_ numerous eyes sizing them up in a combination of morbid amusement and… fear?

“No, my sister,” he said, still twirling. 

Renjun let out a sound like a deflating balloon. _“For god’s sake…”_ He did an emergency scan through the racks that surrounded them and snatched something, _anything_ that didn’t look like it came out of the unwanted bin of the nearest thrift shop. “Try this,” Renjun said, essentially _shoving_ what turned to be a pastel purple (still purple, but at least _pastel)_ oversized hoodie on Mark’s face in a plea to make him stop whatever he was doing. 

Mark looked at the item of clothing with a frown on his face, and for a second, worry shot through Renjun’s veins for he thought he’d somehow _insulted_ the man with his action. The one who should know one’s sibling should be… _one’s sibling,_ right? Who is he, a stranger, to tell him what his sister might or might not like?

“You…” Mark patted down the hoodie, before folding it over his arms and he looked at Renjun with… _excitement on his face?_ “How could you know??? She _loves_ Tintin!” He then threw his arm around Renjun’s shoulder, harsh enough to expel whatever amount of air was in his lungs, and firm enough to instantly blow up his blush into a full on case of tomato face. “Ok so now you gotta help me find things for my dad, my uncle, my grandma, my little cousin, my-”

Renjun listened to him blabber on about the members of his family, about who they are, about what they like, in the hopes that Renjun’s _intuition_ (Mark referred his _sheer dumb luck_ as that and Renjun couldn’t really stop him) would bring him to find the perfect gift for them all. 

As they continued to shop, he made sure to steal glances at Mark when he was too engrossed in his tale to notice that Renjun’s paused his search to listen, carefully, at what he was saying. He had to bite his lips to prevent them from betraying his emotions as a giant smile was always at the edge of spilling over when he caught that glint of joy on Mark’s eyes when he remembered a fun tidbit that he couldn’t wait to share to his _‘new shopping broski’_. 

For Mark, to tell all these random, personal anecdotes of his family to Renjun. He shouldn’t have worried all that much in the first place, huh?

  
  


_

  
  


They stood. In silence. Eyes wide open, mouth wide open, sweat pouring down their (more on Mark’s but same difference) backs as they stared at the flickering number on the screen.

“Ma’am is that,-”

“Two zeros. Yes. You’ve asked me three times.”

The line behind them at the post office was growing. Mostly grandmas. Scratch that. _All grandmas._ They’d begun to stir in their mounting impatience, and the pressure their stares gave on the two of them was enough for Renjun to turn around and gave the gaggle of grannies an apologetic bow. 

Mark’s fingers trembled, pronouncedly (even it seemed that it trembled _more_ than the grandma’s doing her business at the cashier next to them) when he went to fish his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans. The jeans weren't even tight (much to Renjun’s disappointment when he saw Mark earlier that day), but Mark had to tug _real hard_ to get it out of its pocket in order to pay for the exorbitant shipping fee of all his holiday presents. 

Seeing that he finally got his wallet out, the cashier asked, “cash or card?”

Renjun took a peek at Mark, trying to see what’s going on beneath the damp strands of his unruly bangs. Perhaps he saw some moist eyes. Or really, _really_ pale cheeks. His nearly colourless lips trembled when he spoke next. “C… card please.”

The cashier lady has to pry his debit from his claw-like fingers. 

It was quite pitiful. Renjun tried to warn him about this, but of course, he didn’t really listen. He got _two_ copper figurines, for goodness sake. And a gigantic tome of a hardcover book. _‘You know you can just call your city’s bookstore and ask them to deliver the exact same book, which I bet they have, to your mom’s.’_ He said, to which Mark answered, _‘but where is the joy of getting a parcel from overseas if I do that??’_

Mark really only had himself to blame. 

They sat at the waiting area to the side when it was all over. When Mark could only stare at his mobile banking app and mutter, _‘it’s ok, it’s ok, it’s ok. Payday next week payday next week payday next week.’_

Renjun’s pity grew at that, and he unsuredly gave his back a comforting pat. “Let me buy you dinner.”

He could tell that Mark was going to refuse, but Renjun could also tell that he really _didn’t want to do that._ Mark spent the next five seconds staring at him with his moral dilemma playing live on the surface of his glossy eyes. 

In the end, Renjun took Mark’s burden of having to make the decision away with a firm tug on his elbow. 

“But,- the administration,-?”

He rolled his eyes at Mark’s quite surprisingly innocent hesitation. “Ma’am!” Renjun yelled out, “we’re good to go, yes?” 

The brightness of his voice caused the previously dour cashier lady to let out an involuntary smile when she answered, “you’re all good, kiddo. Happy holidays!” 

  
  


_

  
  


Renjun took him to one of his favourite mala restaurants. He thought that something spicy should be a good reset to whatever sorrow Mark felt after parting with nearly 300$ of his savings. 

He was right, once again. It seemed to be a running theme of the day, Renjun being right. And just like a prize, or a perk, or a bonus that one might get after flawlessly executing a tricky stage of a game, Mark awarded Renjun’s hard work with his never ending laughter,

and a gift of his own.

“It wasn’t really _that_ hard of a work,” he argued as he tried to refuse the small, nicely wrapped box that Mark insisted for him to take. 

“Trust me, it was,” Mark, seemingly worried that Renjun would opt to run out of the restaurant, sans coat, to avoid being given the small token of his thanks, decided to just force the thing upon him with a quick reach down the front pocket of his t-shirt. 

Flustered, Renjun tried to fish the box out. But it was an attempt that was so easily killed when Mark placed his hand over Renjun’s. 

“As my mom said, when someone gives you a gift, you accept it.”

At that moment, Renjun was _so_ thankful that his past self decided to go to a mala place. He could at least blame the beads of sweat forming on his forehead on the level three stir fry they were sharing. “But I didn’t get you anything.” 

Mark laughed. This time tiny and light. Nearly a giggle but Renjun just couldn’t wrap his brain around the concept of Mark _giggling_ at something that _he_ personally said. “Like it or hate it, just _accept it,”_ he said, before sadly thankfully he pulled his hand away. No longer was he so close to the location of Renjun’s… heart. “Well, I do hope you’ll like it though.”

It allowed Renjun to have a little breathing moment, which then in turn gave him the clarity of mind to respond to Mark’s bait with a tiny jest. “Even if I don’t, I’ll lie.”

At the start of the day, Renjun was worried, certifiably _terrified_ that the day would end in a disaster. This first real outing of theirs, with no one else there to be a conversational bouncing board in the event that their vibes would grow chilly, Renjun was so afraid that Mark would find him annoying, or worse. _Boring._ But no. No, no, no, no. 

“Anyways, sorry. You must’ve been tired having to listen about me and my family all day long.”

When Mark _noticed._ When Mark realised. When he saw that Mark was genuinely curious for what Renjun had to say on a topic that he held so importantly, Renjun couldn’t stop himself from being lulled to a sense of safety. A sense, that, dangerously, allowed him to lean on the doorway to _What-if Land._

“It’s okay, I enjoyed it.”

Mark beamed at him, and leaned forward, over the already small table that separated them two. The already negligible distance ceased to be, when his knees accidentally ( _accidentally,_ Renjun reminded himself with the fierceness of ten thousand badgers) pressed against Renjun’s. 

“Well, tell me about yours then.”

Mark listened. He enjoyed his company. And the realisation seemed to help in lifting the lump of coal that would usually rise up and lodge itself at the back of Renjun’s throat everytime he had to open his mouth and talk with Mark. 

With a calm hush, Renjun then gladly took the baton from Mark and began his tale. 

  
  


_

  
  


_‘Whatchu did’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘Shopping’  
_ _-long john_

_‘Did you kiss?’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘No the fuck’  
_ _-long john_

_‘Did you……….’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘Whatever you’re gonna say  
_ _The answer is no.’  
_ _-long john_

_‘:((((((  
_ _I was gonna say  
_ _Did you say goodbye goodnight uwuwu’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘I’m so jealous ;((((‘  
_ _-Nana_

_‘What’s he doing here?’  
_ _-long john_

_‘I invited him’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘I’m curious u know  
_ **_@Big D_ ** _you shouldn’t have told him Renjun’s not going anywhere  
_ _If anything happens between them it’s your fault ;(((  
_ _I had my mark phase first  
_ _You’re all just copycats ;’(((‘  
_ _-Nana_

_‘Well you know what  
_ _Tomorrow we’re gonna roast some chicken  
_ _Suck it losers’  
_ _-long john_

_‘DDDD:  
_ _DD:  
_ _DDDDD:’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘Oh well  
_ _Don’t burn down your apartment~’  
_ _-Nana_

_ _ _

  
  


On the **fourth** day of winter holiday, Jaemin’s warnings turned out to be… prophetic in nature.

In a span of 2 hours, Mark has nearly burned down his kitchen _5 times._

“Just… just sit,” Renjun finally said, after Mark managed to burn the pot of boiling potatoes. And it wasn’t as if the potatoes inside got blackened up because he had it cooked on a dry pot for too long, but that he managed to have a _fire_ going on top of the _water_ used to boil the potatoes. Mark’d done the impossible. It felt to Renjun as if he was one of the disciples watching Jesus walk on water.

“But there are still a lot,-”

_“It’s ok.”_ Renjun said, perhaps too firmly, as he managed to shut Mark up before he then marched to the corner of his studio apartment and flopped himself, melancholically, on a small neon pink beanbag.

Renjun wanted to feel bad about banishing Mark away from his mini kitchen, as truthfully, he wasn’t that good of a cook himself. So why the snobbishness? 

But after Mark had spilled nearly 6 types of oil-based product on his fake parquet flooring (and a fistful of sugar on top), Renjun was just glad he didn’t have to hear his squeals, that sounded _way too cute to be real,_ everytime he did a booboo which caused him to not be able to grow _as mad_ compared to if all these mishaps were done by, perhaps… Yukhei.

Renjun must’ve spent the next 10 minutes or so making a full on ruckus as he had to: 1.) clean up Mark’s mess; 2.) clean up _his_ mess; and 3.) finish cooking their homemade dinner which they both so foolishly thought could be done in what, 30 minutes? Because they started at 7.30 PM and by the time the pieces of chicken went into his mini toaster to cook, it was already 10.

“You shouldn’t have trusted me.” Renjun said in a half-laughter, half-whine, half-sob, all-round-exhaustion, when he finally could join Mark at his living room nook with the only food they’ve _(he’s)_ managed to finish in that two and a half hour stretch: sticky mashed potato. 

“I shouldn’t have overestimated myself.” Mark answered with an embarrassed laugh, “I thought, _chicken!_ How hard could it be?” Apparently, hard _enough._ He then spooned a heap of that slightly green-ish goop of mashed potato straight into his mouth. Renjun cringed. But Mark seemed to enjoy it. His eyes fluttered shut and he hummed, “ _god_ that’s good.”

“... you sure?”

Mark offered him the spoon, “try it!” 

Renjun was saved from having to eat the suspicious food (that yes, he made himself but no, he never planned on eating) by the sound of his doorbell ringing. 

“Expecting someone?” Mark shouted from behind him as Renjun pattered off to open the door, secretly, immeasurably grateful for the perfect timing as he could then let go the relieved sigh without potentially insulting Mark and his questionable taste buds. 

“Nah, just _these,”_ Renjun answered, after he kicked his door shut and grabbed two clean glasses from the countertop with his remaining free fingers. He then proceeded to lay down the spread of _legitimately (professionally) cooked_ fried chicken and potatoes on the table between them. 

“Oh, but,-?”

Mark’s confusion was cut by the mighty rumbling sound that resonated from the empty pit of Renjun’s stomach. He was silent, long enough that Renjun wished for the Earth to _also_ let out a rumble in the form of a 9 skala richter earthquake so he could be swallowed whole into a bottomless grave. But just as he was about to apologise, for no reason, yes, but whatever, Mark turned the tide of weirdly condensed awkwardness with another bright laughter of his. 

The sound seemed to suck whatever gloom, whatever hesitance Renjun felt and he crumpled down to the ground with a case of the giggles, “I’m sorry! I’m _really_ hungry! And the chicken is only going to be done in like,-”

_“Never?”_ Mark chimed in, the singular word chopped up into five different fragments that were coughed up with each burst of laughter. 

“I mean that toaster can’t even heat up my sandwiches! So _yes!”_

They spent the next five minutes struggling to open the boxes of chicken and side dishes while still being riddled by waves after waves of giggles that would sometimes swell into a full blown laughing fit when either of their stomach rumbled. And it happened _often,_ what with the smell of spices and crispy fries quickly slithering up their nostrils and into their poor, poor cave of a stomach. 

The last thing he needed to do was to get rid of the abominable mashed potato and pretend the last two and a half hours didn’t happen. But when Renjun was about to do just that, he was shocked when Mark tugged the bowl away from him. 

“I want to finish it.” He said.

Renjun blinked, “you’ll get a stomachache.”

“No! no.” Mark then pulled the bowl closer, nearly cradling it in his hands, “this is good, it reminds me of how my dad would usually do it.”

“Oh god so _that’s_ why,-” _you turn out to be such a bad cook,_ Renjun wanted to say. But this time, he cut himself with a hand slapping over his mouth. 

Mark took it really well, though, waving his hand around and nearly losing his brains with another loud burst of laughter, “growing up was _not_ easy, let me tell you that!”

He ate another big spoonful and nearly choked seemingly after seeing how horrified Renjun looked.

“I’m good with these, thank you very much,” he snickered, pulling the bag of thick cut fries closer to his side of the table. 

But well, no matter how Renjun acted like he was baffled, or confused, or perhaps disgusted that Mark enjoyed their homemade meal so much (even to the point of _also_ scarfing down the questionably cooked chicken strips that could somehow be burnt on the outside but still _slightly_ pink on the inside), he still felt a little bit of… for the lack of better term, _happiness_ when he saw a content smile on Mark’s face. When he memorised the jokes they now had that would surely grow into something so personal nobody else but them could understand (they coined the term _bootato_ aka booger potato). So happy, in fact, that when they were both full, and sleepy, and he was _this_ close from being drunk enough from cheap beer from asking Mark to just spend the night at his place, and Mark asked,

“So? Tomorrow’s still a go, yes?”

Renjun didn’t hesitate, not even for a second, to answer it with an enthusiastic, “yes!”

  
  


_

  
  
  


_‘Kiss?’  
_ _-Nana_

_‘Kiss?  
_ _Kiss??’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘We’re too kind_ **_@Big D  
_ ** _It should be this:  
_ _House burned down?’  
_ _-Nana_

_‘Apartment building burned down???’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘I swear I’ll kiss him just to make all yall cry’  
_ _-long john_

_‘DD:’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘Well, I mean,_ **_if_ ** _that happens’  
_ _-Nana_

_‘Really big_ **_IF_ ** _there’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘Send vids :D’  
_ _-Nana_

__ _ __

  
  


Ice skating on the **fifth** day of winter holiday! Sounds fun, right?

For Renjun, it kinda was.

For Mark…?

“You’re _Canadian!”_

_“And what does that suppose to mean?!”_ Mark yelled, from down on the ice, as he’d managed to fall flat on his butt for the sixth time after they’d managed to snail along the borders _not even twice._

“I don’t know?! Like, birthed out already wearing skating boots?!”

Renjun only stood slightly to the side as Mark struggled to grapple with the foam protector hanging alongside the rink’s barrier to get him back on his feet. He did it (or _didn’t_ do it) not because he was being mean, no. But because of the last five times that he’d reluctantly tried to help, Mark ended up bringing him down _also._

With his hands folded tightly behind his back, Renjun swayed on his blades as he patiently accompanied Mark while he struggled to make the remaining journey back to the exit gate of the rink by draping himself over and dragging himself along the rubber railings. It was sort of… hilarious. 

He snapped a secret picture of Mark’s struggles from the back, and sent it to the Chaos group chat™. It was _much_ appreciated. 

“Why did you ask to go ice skating if you… can’t?” Renjun asked when they could finally amble to the nearest bench and take a much needed rest (after well, only 30 minutes have passed since they first hit the ice).

“Isn’t it a classic pairing?” He said, still panting, “winter and ice skating. I feel like, to make like… the perfect first year winter memory, we _have_ to do this.”

Renjun snorted, “we _really_ don’t have to.”

“We really don’t, huh?” Mark let out a tiny, exhausted laughter before settling in on a casual lean. The silence, just like the mist from the surprisingly empty ice rink, settled heavily around their ankles. Suddenly not knowing what to do with his fingers, or what to do with his eyes, when they were presented with the image of Mark lounging on a rubber bench so effortlessly it ceased to be just a bench and more of a fancy fainting couch, Renjun started to fiddle with the laces of his boots. 

“You can skate.” Mark said it like a statement, not a question, and so Renjun struggled to find the proper way to answer it. 

He settled with a shrug. “A little bit.” 

“Teach me?”

Again, Renjun snorted. “What is a teacher who’s afraid to fall?”

“A good one?” 

Renjun shook his head and wiggled his fingers in defeat, “ _that’s_ a good one.” Or, it can also be heard as _‘you win this time’,_ accentuated with how Renjun then decided to be brave, be _bold,_ and snatched one of Mark's legs away from being sprawled willy nilly on the bench and over onto his lap. 

“Your lacing is too loose,” he said, in response to Mark’s silent surprise, “that’s why you couldn’t find your balance.”

“Why didn’t you tell me _that_ earlier…” 

Renjun couldn’t contain his laughter after hearing the bitter grumpiness in Mark’s grumble. “I just wanna see you make a fool of yourself for once.”

“Am I not foolish enough already???? And don’t tell me you didn’t take a picture of me back then! I _knew_ you took pictures of me. _Don’t lie!”_

By the time Renjun’d finished tying the laces to both of Mark’s skating boots, they were both already in stitches, struggling for breath. 

“Let’s go,” Renjun, still giggling, jumped on his feet and offered Mark his _first_ genuine helping hand of the day. 

Seeing Mark falling on his butt _was_ funny, yes. But if he didn’t utilise the number one reason for why he agreed on going ice skating with Mark even though he _knew_ Mark couldn’t ice skate for his life (oh, Donghyuk had caches of _videos),_ everyone would’ve stoned him to death. 

Because well… he paid the entrance fee _not_ with the premise of getting to exercise for the next two hours in mind. Of course he did it to buy himself a chance to do some _““innocent””_ hand holding with Mark for the next two hours. 

“Please be patient with me,” he said. And the way he said it, the way Mark looked at him when he said it, wide eyes glistening with laughter induced tears and eyebrows slightly scrunched in a surprisingly childish manner… Renjun had to smack his legs twice to prevent himself from melting down into an incomprehensible goo whose sole existence is to _like Mark too much._

“Of course. Now let’s go!” 

  
  


_

  
  


_‘I held hands with him for a total of  
_ _Wait let me check my stop watch  
_ _Uhh  
_ _84 sweet, sweet, unmoisturised minutes  
_ **_@Big D_ ** _that’s 1 hour and 24 minutes for you’  
_ _-long john_

_‘Whore.’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘Charlatan!’  
_ _-Nana_

_‘That’s really sweet ;;  
_ _Congrats man ;;;;’  
_ _-Nono_

_‘What’s he doing here.’  
_ _-long john_

_‘They told me what’s happening and  
_ _I want to know! u.u  
_ _You know I support you’  
_ _-Nono_

_‘aww_ _  
__Thank you u.u_ _  
__You’re a true friend  
_ _Unlike those two jealous hoes.’  
_ _-long john_

_‘If it’s on an ice rink it doesn’t count’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘We hugged when he dropped me off?  
_ _Does it count?’_ _  
__-long john_

_‘Did he tell you that he had a good time? owo”  
_ _-Nono_

_‘Of course he did uwu_ _  
__He said goodnight sweet dreams uwuwuwu’_ _  
__-long john_

_‘D:_ _  
__YOU WHOOOREEEE’_ _  
__-Big D_

  
  


__ _ __

  
  


Renjun opened the pill cabinet atop his sink on the **sixth** day of winter holiday.

Not because he was sick, no. 

But because it was the place where he hid the present Mark gave him a few days ago. Sitting between bottles of gargling solutions and a stash of paracetamols, the sparkly, purple bowed box looked like it was at home. Garishly coloured item in between other garishly coloured items. Renjun could only sigh at the sight. 

He knew that he was sitting on a ticking time bomb. 

On one hand, if Mark managed to hit the jackpot and gave him something that meant a lot to him, he would totally lose his mind _and_ composure for an unprecedented amount of time, which he never wanted to do. _Ever_. But on the other hand, he’d spent the last few nights foolishly, uncontrollably hyping himself up with vomit-inducing romanticism and saccharine-sweet what ifs that if the content of that box turned out to be something _bogus_ (a piece of… mini snickers, say? He shuddered at that thought), he knew he would _also_ go through a long period of furious meltdown that would, as usual, run longer than it ever needed to be as he didn’t have anyone, or anything, to direct it to.

He really didn’t want to open it. _Especially_ as he knew, with it being the ticking time bomb that it is… Mark would probably force him to open it come Christmas day with a gun drawn on his forehead. 

“What do you think?” 

To the sound of Mark suddenly popping into his left ear, Renjun whipped his head and immediately slammed the cupboard shut. 

The problem was, he forgot that two hours and 15 subway stops had elapsed between the time he was preparing for the day in his own place, and the time he was currently residing in. 

The problem _was,_ he forgot how powerful his idle mind could be. 

Because Renjun was no longer in his bathroom. He was in the middle of Mark’s spacious apartment, helping him decorate the much too big, family-of-four sized plastic Christmas tree, and Renjun’s reflexive hand movement had just toppled it down to the ground in a loud _GRRRSJKJSKD._

“ _OH MY GOD! Oh my god_ I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry I’m,-” Literally losing his mind now, Renjun immediately dropped himself also to the ground in a panicky bid of trying to save his face by doing something that only guaranteed him to have his face shaved off even _more_. He was too busy hauling the actually quite heavy tree back to its metal foundation and scooping up the fallen baubles and metallic boas that he didn’t notice how Mark hasn’t… uttered a single noise since the whole mess shabanged. 

Renjun’d created such a tight tunnel vision of panic that he literally didn’t notice what Mark was doing until he shoved his phone right in front of his face, and took a photo with flash to boot. 

He paused. Petrified to stone. And in the silence, he heard that familiar noise. Mark’s simmering laughter which, usually would’ve soothed his heart but this time, caused his stomach acid to burst in a festive _boom!_

“Don’t… you… dare.” Renjun seethed through his gritted teeth. 

“Oh I _do_ dare,” Mark answered with a snicker, peppered with his bubbling breath, “revenge for yesterday.”

Renjun _whipped_ himself so he could face Mark right on with his furiousness. But in doing so, he _jingled,_ what with the assortment of baubles and bell ornaments hanging on his fingers, and the rustles of aluminium tassels that were draped on all of the free spots on his limbs. Renjun was a living, human shaped, derangedly decorated, Christmas tree. 

No matter how scalding his fury was, it would never work.

Mark agreed, because he could then no longer hold his laughter, _and_ also his decorum, as he once again took a flash-assisted picture right in front of a snarling Renjun, who was perfectly crowned with a star ornament that through his earlier kerfuffle, has magically stuck itself on the top of his head.

By the time Renjun managed to wrestle the phone away from Mark’s hands, they were _wrestling on_ the floor of, once again, Mark’s very spacious living room, with limbs tangled over each other and around the itchy fringes of the metallic boas. He should be glad that Mark decided to not get himself some fairy lights. Because they would’ve electrocuted themselves with how much Mark was weeping from his laughters. 

“PASSWORD!!” Renjun screeched with one of his arms looping around Mark’s neck in a chokehold, as leverage, you know. 

Though, it seemed that the move didn’t deter Mark in the slightest, as he still managed to keep his jolly demeanor, answering, _“Never!”_ with what must be a bright, totally unbothered smile carved onto his lips. 

In a move that completely blindsided Renjun (and much later into the night, he convinced himself was originally targeted on his elbows), Mark grabbed him by his wrists and easily _yanked_ his arms open, using the element of surprise and the speed of him rolling onto his knees to completely stun Renjun into inaction. 

Hands pushed onto his shoulders and he was reaped from all of his grit together with the air being expelled from his lungs, when his back collided roughly against Mark’s _genuine_ parquet flooring. 

Multicoloured static burst upon his blurry vision and sadly, Renjun’s struggles came to a pitiful end with a quiet _thud._ Mark’s phone clattered away from his slacked fingers, coming to an abrupt stop when it collided with the carpet’s edge. 

Renjun groaned, and could only then wait for Mark’s gloating. Which, oddly enough, never came. 

Also, oddly enough, those hands. Those big, warm hands. They were still posted on both of his shoulders long after… _they shouldn’t have?_

Soon enough Renjun noticed that it was done less because Mark was afraid he would immediately flip him off and scurry to re-grab the phone and destroy it in the garbage disposal, but because he was _afraid_ that he’d played too harshly. Like a kid, who’d forgot how much they’d grown during their summer growth spurt, yet still played with the exact same fervor with their poor friend who’d stayed the same height since they were 10, then accidentally knocked them right through the classroom’s window and straight onto the bougainvillea bush down below. It’s very specific because it was his life story. Renjun knew it well. The moment of silence where inside, Mark must’ve been riddled with a flurry of _‘please don’t tell mom please don’t tell mom.’_ Classic.

But still, even when he’d finally mustered enough courage to begin opening his eyes, Renjun was still stunned when he was greeted with a sight he thought would be almost impossible to encounter in real life (in fantasy, yes. _Ooh yes._ But in real _life?! Never!)._ Mark, hovering over him, with worry etched so deeply in his eyes that Renjun found that it was possible for a human being to still _deflate_ even when they had no air left inside them. 

“You good?” Mark’s worried voice woke Renjun from his trance and he quickly (and easily, as Mark no longer exert any pressure onto him whatsoever, those hands existed only as a… as a reassurance that Renjun hadn’t grown cold because of him, perhaps?) shot up to his bum. Fireworks, now, went off within his eyeballs. But Renjun wasted no time to pretend as if he was okay, by pushing himself up to his feet and walking, no, _swaying_ the short distance to retrieve Mark’s thankfully unscuffed phone. 

“Come on,” Renjun said, trying his best to come across as _fine,_ even if his vision was starting to turn black on the edges from how fast his blood was rushing up into his brain, “you think I’m made of what? Putty?”

“More like marshmallow,” Mark jested, easily catching his phone as Renjun thanked his luck and all the guardian angels that worked overtime in correcting the trajectory of his throw, so that he could still fool him into thinking that he was _okay,_ and he didn’t have to see that cursed expression on Mark’s face any longer. 

Worry. Care. Genuinely thinking that he’d hurt him. _Nu-uh._ Not a sight he _ever_ wanted to see on his face _ever again._

“Do you want me to delete it?” Mark called over from his position on the ground, while Renjun, after he’d recovered from the little invasion of iridescent vision-ants, had started to once again collect the assortment of Christmas accessories from the ground. “Honestly, if you want me to, it's cool.”

He wanted to say yes. He _nearly_ said yes. But then he remembered. _Hey,_ he could play this to _his_ advantage!

“Nah, don’t worry,” he said, trying to sound blaze yet with a little bit of hesitance in his voice. All act, all lies, 100% manipulation. “It was just a knee jerk reaction. I saw the pic, it’s kinda funny _tee-bee-aitch”_

Mark chuckled at that. Perfect.

“Can I send it to the boys?” 

Hook, line, and sink _him._

“Why not,” Renjun said with a shrug. A victorious shrug, that is! “Hey, talking about marshmallows, what say you on some hot cocoa?” 

From his periphery, Renjun observed the movement of Mark’s fingers. When he looked up after his thumb flicked upward in a final, complete arc, he knew the _deed_ was _done._

“Sounds perfect!”

_

  
  


_‘I got the pic 👀👀’  
_ _-Nana_

_‘Me too uwu’  
_ _-Nono_

_‘Me threee’  
_ _-Lucas_

_‘Me fucking four’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘What’s he doing here.’  
_ _-long john_

_‘They all say we’re doing a bet  
_ _A winter bet!  
_ _I want in ^^’  
_ _-Lucas_

_‘...a bet h u h’  
_ _-long john_

_‘God dammit Yukhei…’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘I mean, looking at where yall two are now_ _  
__I can see how I might win this.’  
_ _-Nana_

_‘You’re way too optimistic.’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘Just because you’re outnumbered 3:1 doesn’t mean you can be a debby downer.’  
_ _-Nana_

_‘Remember! No sabotages!’  
_ _-Nono_

_‘What do I get from this???’  
_ _-long john_

_‘Idk nothing?'  
_ _-Nana_

_‘Well, i see it like this  
_ _If you win, you prove to be the best out of all of us!  
_ _I mean we all had our Mark phase one time or another, right guys???’  
_ _-Lucas_

_‘Yeeeeah whatever’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘But if you lose…  
_ _Hmm idk_ **_@Big D_ ** _will you share your winnings?’  
_ _-Lucas_

_‘No.’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘:(( come onnn_ _  
__Not even a little bit for a consolation prize?’  
_ _-long john_

_‘You fuckin got thrown around his living room  
_ _WHICH none of us has ever seen IRL  
_ _I think that's a consolation prize enough all right.’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘Aww :((((  
_ _Fuck you too then :(((’  
_ _-long john_

_‘uwuwu fuck you too~’  
_ _-Big D_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my secret santa baby!! @cindyginthedia!! i hope you like this ;;;;  
> This... turned into something much more gigantic than what I ever thought it would, but your prompts!! are all so cute!! and adorable!! and sweet!! and soft!! and i just want to write them all????  
> so  
> instead of 50 first dates it's 12 (technically 11 lol) first dates of Renjun and Mark the left behinds, the kids stranded in a foreign country because they're international students with not that much money.  
> I also want to say thank you to NCT V Secret Santa for giving me the opportunity to put in all of my Mark-related scenario in one compact place l m a o
> 
> Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates and happy holidays! <3
> 
> hmu @ my twitter [@moon__soil](https://twitter.com/moon__soil)  
> or @ my tumblr (which nowadays I frequent more often) [@heibaihuangzi](https://heibaihuangzi.tumblr.com/)


	2. 0 7  -  1 2

  
Mark wanted to see some decorative lights on the **seventh** day of winter holiday. 

Sounds nice! … right?

Well, yes it does. Only if he _knew_ where to find one before the two of them embarked on a wild goose chase around the city, trying to find something that _might not_ even exist in the first place.

“So you don’t know if Koreans ever decorate their houses for Christmas?”

“??? How should I??? I’m _not a Korean!”_

Tired, confused, cold, and hungry, Renjun could only seethe in annoyance as he squatted himself into a ball at the front of a closed frozen yoghurt store, while Mark was still busy trying to find a place that’ll help him tick the box on his elaborate winter wishlist. Still filled with hope. Still filled with determination, huh? 

“Online articles say _Cheongdam-dong street,_ or the big malls, but I’ve _seen_ them and they’re _not_ festive!” Mark huffed, and big, white clouds puffed out of his nostrils. His head would’ve started to steam like a giant ball of steamed _mantou_ , judging from how frustrated he looked. But he was instantly reminded of his place when Mark caught the pitiful sight of a shivering Renjun, who looked like he could’ve come out from an illustrated edition of _Oliver Twist._

“I’m sorry,” Mark’s tone mellowed, and whatever irritation left within Renjun’s belly melted, like a pile of grey snow under the morning sun, “should we get something to eat first?”

Renjun wanted to say something scathing, or at the very least, something witty. But his stomach, the biggest traitor of all, rumbled _so loudly_ that he couldn’t control himself from letting out a defeated giggle as he gave his answer, “that sounds amazing, yes.”

Mark offered him a helping hand, which Renjun took with little to no hesitation. The tips of his fingers, unprotected as he was wearing a set of fingerless gloves, felt like icicles against Renjun’s palms, which were warm, as he was clever enough to put some hot packs in his coat pockets. _“God,_ give me that,” Mark sighed, pulling Renjun closer to him as he casually gathered both his hands closer to his chest. A move that had seamlessly caused Renjun’s face to detonate in blooms of pink. “That felt _so good.”_

“I can… give you the packs if you want,” Renjun stuttered through his response like a real _loser._ And for the first time in his life, he gave thanks to the winter gods for making winters in Korea _so damn cold,_ as he could then blame the chatters of his teeth to the temperature, and not to how he was very nearly losing his mind from the way Mark was bringing his palms up to press them on his icy cheeks. 

Mark’s eyes fluttered to a close, as contentment and warmth must’ve started to seep into him together with the blood that returned to the tips of his cheeks, turning them red, just like Renjun’s. His shivering pinky rested against the hollow of Mark’s cheeks and he _didn’t want this to ever end._

“Nah. I’m good.” Just as quickly and suddenly as it all started, it ended. Mark patted the back of his palms and returned it back to the comfortable nook within his coat’s pockets. “What do you wanna eat?”

Mark had walked some ten steps ahead before Renjun managed to rouse himself awake from his disbelieved stupor. “I… uh…” stuttering once more, he pattered his way back to Mark’s side, “how about some hot pot?”

“Mala again?” There was a faint crook of an amused smile on Mark’s face as he said that, “you sure do love spicy food, huh?”

“N… no I mean, what do _you_ want? I’ll have whatever you want?”

Mark let out a free laughter and it nearly caused Renjun to crumble in a heap of giggly mess right then and there, “chill! I like 'em too! But I think I can have double the portion of some dumpling,-”

As they were rounding up a corner into a small alleyway, Mark suddenly stopped dead on his tracks. So abruptly, in fact, that Renjun effectively ran onto him and mushed his nose against the collar of his fur-lined puffer coat. 

Renjun’s silent confusion was quickly answered when he stepped aside, still rubbing his nose, and saw _what_ had greeted them in this tiny, unassuming alleyway. 

Lights. Golden, silver, red, and green. Strung across from one awning to the other, coiled tightly around the street lights. Framing the store windows and entrances in what Renjun would call, a hidden festive haven in the middle of basically nowhere, Seoul. 

Mark, beside him, also lit up. Emotionally, mentally, and _also,_ physically. Toothy, excited grin exposed his pristinely white teeth that glimmered against the chilly wind, and also, _his eyes._ Opened wide, completely exposing the circle of his oddly reflective iris and turning them into literal gems. 

Like Cate Blanchett in the set of the Lord of the Rings, with people standing in front of her during takes holding bundles of fairy lights so her eyes would take a magical glint and look as if stars reside within them, Mark, then, looked like his very presence was blessed by the Ancients. 

“ _Holy shit_ we found it!” Mark yelled, extremely enthusiastically. So much so that he was nearly buzzing. 

Renjun agreed. Even if what he was looking at, and what he was excited about, was not exactly the same as Mark’s. Not the lights themselves, but their _reflections_ on the contours of Mark’s face, the way it flitted through the moisture around the strands of his coal black eyelashes. The way it tinted his puffs of breath red, and yellow, and green, making it look as if he was leaking out festivities from his very pores. 

There’s a small cafe stuck smack dab in the middle of the alley, and so Renjun, not willing to let go of such magic in his otherwise drab life, suggested, “let’s sit there for a while.”

“But you’re hungry.” Mark responded without taking his eyes away from the lights, which was a good thing, because Renjun wasn’t sure that he could look away if Mark were to avert his gaze and to look at him then _._ Even if he knew, that the way he was looking at Mark would’ve betrayed everything he’d hid away from the boy with one, quick _blink._

“I won’t say no to a cup of hot chocolate.”

Mark’s smile grew a little brighter, if that was possible, and Renjun still found himself staring with no plan of ever, _ever,_ looking away. 

“Alright, alright. Lead the way, then.”

  
  


_

  
  


_‘I think I finally know a good Christmas gift for Mark.’  
_ _-long john_

_‘What? u,u’  
_ _-Nono_

_‘Fairy lights for his living room (which_ _  
_ _none of yall has ever been to before)’  
_ _-long john_

_‘That’s super lame.  
_ _Mark’s not someone who’ll hang up fairy lights  
_ _Ya fairy.’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘Honestly yeah… it’s kinda lame’  
_ _-Lucas_

_‘This is cyberbullying’  
_ _-long john_

_‘Toughen up fruitcake’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘Then what do you think is a good gift for him???_ _  
_ _Im literally nearly losing my mind rn’  
_ _-long john_

_‘Iphone 12?’  
_ _-Nana_

_‘Do you think I shit out gold…’  
_ _-long john_

_‘xbox 5 lmao’  
_ _-Nono_

_‘Whatever new phone samsung made  
_ _I changed my phone to a samsung because of him  
_ _I won’t let yall make him switch to iphone that easily’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘All of these are very capitalistic and sad’  
_ _-long john_

_‘Fyi romanticism is dead.’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘Gee, cheer up ayn rand’  
_ _-long john_

_‘How about a portrait?  
_ _I think out of our friend group  
_ _Mark’s the only one you haven't gifted a portrait yet, right?’  
_ _-Lucas_

_‘_ **_@Lucas_ ** _honestly man I love you man’  
_ _-long john_

_‘ISN’T THIS SABOTAGING???  
_ _THIS IS GIVING THE PLAYER UNFAIR ADVANTAGE!!!’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘I suggest you ready that 150.000 won asap bro.’  
_ _-Nana_ _  
_ _  
_ _  
_

_ _ _

  
  


On the **eighth** day of winter holiday, a miracle happened.

“Is this…”

“Yes.”

“You…?”

“Yes!”

“And your apartment’s still intact…?”

Mark, most likely annoyed that Renjun would not believe a fact even if it was staring right at him, snatched a broken piece of chocolate chip cookie from the pile inside a medium-sized tupperware box. “Yes! The apartment’s intact and these babies came out _perfect.”_

Renjun decided that, after _““wasting””_ a full week prancing around town, doing things as Mark told him to (which, honestly, he enjoyed to the very last seconds of their goodbyes, but Renjun will _never_ divulge that truth to Mark, duh. Who do you think he is? _Donghyuk??)_ , it was Mark’s turn to spend the day like how he wished it to be. 

“I mean, I need snacks if I were to go through… 2000 words of… my winter assignment.” Mark looked like he was one gag away from a vomit, but Renjun swiftly curbed it when he fished into the tupperware and brought out an item that was successful in causing Mark’s eyes to nearly pop out of their sockets.

“Soooo… _homemade?”_ He wiggled the bag of silicone beads in front of Mark’s face and tossed it away, hitting him square on his forehead before it plopped pathetically onto his lap. 

“I mean… in the Lee household we _really_ try to keep the freshness of our _baked goods,-!”_ His words dissolved into a bubbling vat of giggles when Renjun lurched forward to give his forehead another hit. This time, with the bed of his palm, that pushed against it hard enough it caused Mark to topple over and sink into the beanbag that, ever since his first visit to Renjun’s apartment, he’s christened to be _‘my favourite seat in the house’._

Not that Renjun had any other remotely comfortable seat than _that._ But whatever Mark wants, Mark gets, right?

So, having no other choice, Renjun dredged in the dingy plastic stool from his veranda and adjusted his easel to match the height of his new perching point. 

“Sometimes I’m envious of you,” Mark garbled, with a mouth full of cookies, and nodded towards Renjun's mountain of painting supply, “getting to study what you love.”

Renjun scoffed at that, and the tube of vermillion red in his hand spurted too. As if the universe was mocking him, in a way. What for, initially he wasn’t sure. 

But when he took the paint rag to clean the speckles away from his arms, he relented. _This is the day when only truth is accepted, huh?_

“But if I grow to hate it, I’ll be left with nothing.” Yellow, blue, burnt sienna, and a large dollop of white. Even when he’d finished setting up his palette, he hadn’t heard another response from Mark. Curious, and worried if he really was _that_ boring that what was supposed to be an interesting conversation ended after only one passing, Renjun turned to where Mark was sitting. 

Their gazes met. Mark, it turns out, has been looking at him with fascination in his eyes. 

“Have you ever hated it?” Mark finally asked. The harsh glow of his laptop turned his eyes into a shining beacon of truth, so incessant in their search that Renjun found it hard to maintain their precious contact. 

He returned onto his palette. “Sometimes, yeah.”

“But never enough that you considered to stop, right?” 

Renjun could only shrug his shoulders to such a statement. But he found himself smiling, when he picked up a nicely mixed colour onto his brush and looked at where he was going to place it on his overly ambitious winter break assignment. “I’m here. So no.”

“Not yet?” Mark’s laugh lifted the atmosphere significantly. Enough that Renjun’s smile was also carried up into a giggle.

“Not yet, you’re right.”

The air calmed into a comfortable hush right after that, with both of them busy working on their assignment, or at least, _appearing_ to be, in Mark’s case (because working on a criminal psychology case study should not… entail someone to let out that much giggles and humoured scoffs, right…?).

“What will we have for lunch?” Mark suddenly asked, around one hour into the session. 

“It’s… two in the afternoon. Did you not have one before you came here?” 

“I’m hungry.” He said, with a pout to boot.

Exasperated, Renjun pointed at the tupperware that was emptied from its last cookie not fifteen minutes ago. “You didn’t even share that with me!”

The pout was still there, and god forbid, was exaggerated, when Mark responded to the accusation, “but I thought you don’t want it if it’s not homemade.”

“Alright.” Renjun could see that Mark was so ready to jump up from his nook when he finally relented. But the grin on his face was wiped oh so quickly when instead of joining him, Renjun picked up his phone, and Mark then could do nothing else but listen to the conversation he had with a Chinese restaurant nearby.

“What?” Renjun asked, when the phone call was over (where in it Renjun specifically told the restaurant to deliver the food only when the clock struck 6 in the evening. “1800. Sharp. You got me?” He said, and he made sure that his call was turned into speaker mode so Mark could hear the answer of the cashier who sounded somewhat overly enthusiastic that he was just given a quest of some sort. _“Aye aye chief!”)._ Mark could only look at him with pleading eyes, “you thought I’d let you out from here before you can show me your first draft?” Mark nodded. Probably hoping that his uwu factor would be enough to melt Renjun down to his usual gooey state so he would be allowed to drag him out for a mini adventure to the mini convenience store at the ground floor of his apartment. 

If that happened during the first, nay, third day of them spending their break mostly together, then yes. Probably. Most likely. Yes. But it was their seventh day together, dammit. Who do you think he was? _Donghyuk????_

“6 PM.”

“But,-”

“ _Six. PM. Lee Minhyung.”_ At the mention of his full birth name, Mark sunk back down into the deflated bean bag. He still had that exaggerated pout, even when he began to type on his laptop, _finally_ working on his assignment at last. 

“First draft complete or I won’t let you have the fried dumpling.”

“Yesss mother.”

Renjun could no longer hold his laughter by that point. It burst out so suddenly that he nearly was knocked out of his flimsy stool. They wasted the next fifteen minutes throwing jabs at each other. But that was fine. Because it made it feel as if they’ve spent way more time together than just seven days. _Seven._

“By the way, it’s fine if my citations are still messy, right?” Mark asked, somewhere between 2.50 and 3.25. The tone of his voice ripe with exhaustion, frustration, whatever-tion, you name it.

“I said, _first draft,_ not submit-ready. So yeah. I’m whatever.”

Renjun finally looked away from his painting when he answered Mark’s question and heard no response from the chatterbox. 

He was asleep. Head propped on his folded arms, resting atop his closed laptop. Renjun looked at his clock. 4.15. “Dammit, not again,” he muttered under his breath, remembering the time when he was locked inside the painting hall for an entire night because he didn’t realise the class was over for nearly 5 hours, and also, that nobody noticed the tiny kid hidden behind the tall stacks of wooden dowels at the back of the room. 

But he didn’t spend too much of his time muttering, or regretting, the wasted time that he could’ve used talking more with Mark. No, he _couldn’t._

Because, the portrait, right? The last minute winter gift that he promised himself he would finish, even if that meant he won’t sleep for the next three days. 

Renjun originally thought that he would work on it during the night (which explains his willingness to sacrifice his sleep for it), basing his work on photographs (which Mark has plenty of), or memory (which these seven days have given him a plethora to choose from). But looking at Mark like this, his serene face framed with the soft, white fluff of his sweater, and the warm yet harsh light of a setting winter sun illuminating his face in a natural glow offsetted by the dark shadows of the unlit corner as his background, how could he _not_ work from life? 

Renjun knew he only had a very slim window of time (one hour, to be exact), to _at least_ get the base going, as past that, the windows would literally grow to be so dark he won’t be able to see anything without turning on the main lights in his room. And in extension, waking Mark up in the process. So quietly, Renjun set aside the large canvas he’s been working on, and grabbed a smaller one he’d hid at the back of his stash. A canvas, ironically enough, he’s saved for his very own self portrait. 

_But that’s fine,_ he thought, as he tried to keep good time by filling the background with a wash of deep blue. _I can always get another one._ And the thought that he would share the same canvas _shape_ as Mark’s self portrait, was making him literally _shake_ in excitement, so much so that a paintbrush (out of four) he was holding on his left hand slipped from his flimsy grasps and clattered to the floor. 

It nearly woke Mark up. He hummed, yapped his mouth twice, and picked up his head only to, thankfully, place it _on the exact same spot_ that he lay before on his bed of arms. 

Renjun let out the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. “That was close…” he whispered, quickly getting himself comfortable with the journey of finding Mark’s likeness on his canvas. The outline of his fluffed up hair, the golden highlights. Those thick brows and the slightly hollowed cheeks. The rosiness of his nose, and the way his chin caught the light of the waning sun. Perfect. Or _nearly._

Because he wished he could capture the way his eyes would’ve shine underneath this magical light. The golden hour reflected on them. 

Was he willing to cut his working hour short and wake up Mark? Just for the chance, that slight, tiny chance that he would keep his pose but look at him, with those wide, glistening eyes of his?

The sun would completely set over the horizon in 10 minutes. 

So _fuck it,_ he thought. _Fuck. It._

“Mark.” Once. Twice. 

Three times, the amount it took to rouse Mark up. 

Like something out of his greatest dream, Mark _did_ look up at him, while _still_ maintaining his position, cheeks a mush against his fluffy sweater. _What?_ His silent stare seemed to say. 

And Renjun’s quiet, observing eyes met his glow with a plea. A very _simple_ plea.

_Wait._

Wait a second. Just a second. Stay _just like that._ Until this image was burned inside his database of memories, and even more. Until the sun sets. Until no golden light exists within those eyes. Until they were replaced by the tiny pinpricks of light coming from windows of the neighboring towers, that flicker on, one by one, when the sky turned from pink, to purple, to blue, to black, to none. Just the reflection of him, against the glass, as a smile grew onto his lips and he asked, audibly,

“What?”

Which Renjun could then answer with nonchalance. “Wake up. The food is coming.”

Seven days. And yet this sight made it look as if he _should’ve_ been there, nesting right in the middle of his favourite nook of Renjun’s tiny apartment, since forever. 

  
  


_

  
  
  


_‘Mark is spending the night at my place uwuwu’  
_ _-long john_

_‘SHUT UP’  
_ _-Nana_

_‘fuck you Huang Renjun’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘OOooOoOOooOOOooOOoooOOOooOOooOOOO????  
_ _Will you… you know?  
_ _YOU KNOW??’  
_ _-Lucas_

_‘WTF NO!  
_ _The study date just ran a lil bit too long so  
_ _He’s too lazy to go back to his place??’  
_ _-long john_

_‘Oh :(( i mean  
_ _Knowing your track record i mean  
_ _I thought :(((‘  
_ _-Lucas_

_‘Not this time??!!’  
_ _-long john_

_‘uwu bby is serious’  
_ _-Nana_

_‘Aaaaaaaa uwuwuwuwu’  
_ _-Nono_

_‘Please lord if I’m there i would’ve never let this go this far’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘Thats why you’re not here uwuwuwu  
_ _Good niighttt, Mark says  
_ _Sweet dreams, Mark says, to yall, but through me  
_ _So he actually said sweet dreams to me, fyi’  
_ _-long john_

_‘Tell him ‘I love you Mark :*  
_ _Include the kiss’  
_ _-Nana_

_‘well tell him that yourself I say’  
_ _-long john_

_‘Bad night and nightmare to you too hoe.’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘uwuwu thanks’  
_ _-long john_

  
  


_ _ _

  
  


Renjun thought that, sharing a bed with one’s undying crush would lead to… things that only exist in Hallmark’s novels. Plotty eroticas that his mom likes to read but never wants to admit she’s read. 

What he got, in fact, was snores, a kick on his hips, a blanket snatcher, and the hardest time ever of trying to wake someone up from the deepest slumber.

A quarter of the **ninth** day of winter holiday was wasted trying to _wake Mark up._

Promise of food didn’t work. Threat of violence was answered only with a sleepy _‘mrmemm’._ A kick on the butt? Not registered. 

In the end, Renjun decided that the best action to take at that moment was _inaction._ He left the sleeping cow alone and ran his errands by himself, even if maybe, _perhaps,_ he spent nearly an hour last night before he slept imagining how _romantic_ it would be if they could have a nice, little breakfast at a nearby cafe. 

The moment Mark woke up, at approximately 11.40, to the smell of fried dough and porridge, the idea of romanticism has been thrown away so far out of the window that it returned, like a boomerang with bold stickers on it that said _‘DOMESTICISM, BITCH’._

It struck Renjun right on his heart and it nearly stopped when he saw Mark yawn, really loudly, before he scratched his ears and said to him, with a smile, “good morning.”

Mark jumped out of the bed and, without any warnings, snatched the fried pillow cake from the plastic sharing plate. He then plopped himself onto the bean bag. _His_ bean bag. Mark’s. He was wearing the pants and shirt that he borrowed from Renjun’s leisurewear stash and it caused his heart to nearly combust in happiness. 

“Is this what it feels like to be married?” His words muffled as Mark was too busy chewing and checking on his phone to really _understand_ the effect his words had on Renjun’s physical state. He was so flushed, smoke would’ve started billowing out of his ears if they lived in _that_ kind of universe, “waking up to a breakfast ready to eat?”

Trying to be strong, Renjun bet on Mark being too busy chowing down on his breakfast and put all his efforts on making his voice sound normal. Face colouration be damned, “well, dear,” Renjun said, putting a glass of warm water beside Mark’s bowl of porridge and nudging his back with his knee in the process, “don’t get too comfortable with it.”

“That’s only if we agree that this is an equal opportunity household,” Mark laughed, and Renjun slipped in with him. Letting a light giggle to free him of the pressing alertness of his shame. It proved to be his undoing. Because that split second where he lost his spatial awareness was damaging enough to his reaction time, that he failed to avert his face away when Mark, damn him, suddenly decided to look up from his phone to address Renjun directly with what must’ve been a planned continuation of his joke.

Planned. Because it never came.

Mark saw him, in that fleeting moment that felt more like hours than seconds, completely. Red face and sheer contentment and all. 

He thought he saw something shift on Mark’s face, in that brief moment of eternity. An expression of mild surprise, like a silent moment of: _huh… huh?_ where his mouth dropped a little, and eyes glazed as his attention was pulled suddenly inward. But everything rushed back to normal before Renjun was able to do a double take and confirm that he wasn’t seeing things. 

Their breakfast went without any other odd hitches afterwards. Normal, albeit a little quiet. But Renjun chalked it to Mark being quite busy replying to whoever was chatting him up a storm. ( _‘who is it?’_ Renjun asked, regretting that he didn’t try harder to mask the annoyance from his voice. Mark didn’t seem to notice though, as he only shot back with a, _‘someone from uni’_ without bothering to look up from his phone.)

He came across as restless when he was helping Renjun tidy up. So much so that Renjun waved him away, in the hopes that Mark’s nervous energy won’t taint the day anymore than it already did.

Oh, it won’t taint him all right. As Mark, after awkwardly pacing the strip of free space between Renjun’s bed and his study, suddenly turned on his heels and announced, “I gotta go.” Something seemed to slip when Mark said those words. A slight change in his infliction, a little hitch in his breath. Like… fear. Like he was rushing to catch up on something.

Renjun, too, tried to catch up to Mark’s frantic behaviour. “A,- are you not,-” He stopped himself just in time before the stupid side of himself managed to complete the sentence with _going to stay here for the day?_ Instead, he let out a cough to serve as a sentence reset and asked, “where?”

Mark shrugged in the middle of shimming himself out of Renjun’s pants that were slightly too small for his build. “I have a little bit of errands to run. And phone calls. To family,” Mark said, placing the messily folded borrowed clothes by the door to Renjun’s bathroom, waving his hands as if to play down the importance of his planned activities. “It’s really boring.”

“I don’t mind that.” Renjun’s common sense failed to stop him from impulsively saying that, and he compulsively bit his lips to a close when he saw the tick on Mark’s shoulders, the split second of pause that he nearly missed from when Mark was tying the laces to his tennis shoes. 

“See you tomorrow, ok?” He said it while not even bothering to look at Renjun. Just a throwaway line from over his shoulder, and the door closed with a muted thud. 

_That was odd,_ he thought, and a tingly, simmering feeling started to build on the base of his stomach. Renjun quickly decided that he didn’t like that.

So he silenced it with two glasses of very strong black coffee that he got from his apartment’s convenient store. 

As he let the hot, bitter, tasteless liquid burn his tongue, Renjun reminded himself that this was forbidden, that _Mark_ was never to be turned into the game of _is he or is he not._ Because he knew that _he was not._

_Enjoy the time as it’s given to you,_ he always said to himself. Enjoy the sight. The companionship. But never ask for more. 

But after going through that hell of a weird interaction, a little part of him began to whisper. The impulsive side of him. The voice that couldn’t be drowned even after Renjun’d tried to distract himself with demanding schoolwork and two kinds of auditory input in the form of music and movies that he set as a much needed white noise.

_What if…?_

He eyed Mark’s unfinished portrait when he was deciding on which painting to work on. 

Not today.

_

  
  


_‘Ey anything fun happened today?’  
_ _-Nana_

_‘Nah  
_ _We just chilled  
_ _Kinda boring’  
_ _-long john_

_‘Still!  
_ _Chillin for the whole day?  
_ _That’s super wholesome  
_ _Respect’  
_ _-Lucas_

_‘I wanna chill with mark ;;’  
_ _-Nono_

_‘I know bby’  
_ _-Nana_

_‘Me too :((‘  
_ _-Big D_

_‘Shut up bby’  
_ _-Nana_

  
  


__ _ __

  
  
  


The **tenth** day of winter holiday started beautifully (as it was opened with Mark’s chirpy _‘good morning!~’_ message. It caused Renjun to instantly forget the odd episode that happened the day before). But it quickly soured because turns out, Mark needed to do a detour on their previously agreed plan (a free panto showing at a nearby elementary school) to go to their university to meet up with his tutor.

The whole journey through, Renjun grumbled and garbled and sulked and mopped and tried his damnedest to keep Mark in the dark that he was feeling _anything but._ I mean, who could stay mad with Mark whispering his sweet, sweet words of apologies straight to your ears?? 

“Have you seen this?” Mark suddenly shoved his phone under Renjun’s nose. It was one of his numerous strategies to put a smile back on Renjun’s face, sharing funny pictures. 

The bus lurched to a sudden stop, and Renjun’s nose bumped against the cold screen. It only caused the pout on his face to jut out even further. But before Mark could once again utter his word of apology, Renjun snatched the phone away from him. “Gimme that.” He said, skipping out of the bus and secretly smiling as behind him Mark struggled to juggle trying to hoist up his backpack while tapping off his transport card.

He finally got off, scott free, with an apologetic smile given to the annoyed driver. But, to be fair, all bus drivers seemed to be living their life in a constant state of annoyance so perhaps it wasn’t entirely Mark’s fault that he was frowning.

“Is that?” 

“Yukhei.”

“Riding a…?”

Mark took back his phone, scrolling the screen away to the chat he had with Yukhei to refresh his memory on the name of the vehicle featured in that picture Yukhei gave to him.

“A _tuk tuk?”_

The way Mark said that word caused a snorty laughter to burst out from Renjun’s previously pursed lips. Droplets of saliva landed on Mark’s phone screen and it only caused his laughter to grow in volume. 

_“Why?!”_

“I don’t know!” Mark answered, wiping his phone clean with the sleeve of his sweater, “he said, _a side job for the week,_ because of _course_ he didn’t bring enough money for his trip.”

“Of course.” They both shook their heads, and Mark typed in a response, also with the help of Renjun’s inputs ( _‘don’t forget to wear sunscreen’ ‘more like don’t forget to take a shower’)_ , to that picture of Yukhei riding a tuk tuk on some remote beach in Thailand. 

Mark clicked send with a smile on his face, perhaps thinking _‘well, that’s that on that, I’ve made him laugh, good job me’,_ but he should’ve known better. After nine days of being together, Mark should’ve known better, no? Renjun would _never_ let go of the chance of confronting people with their sins.

“Why couldn’t you just email him?” He asked. Mark’s smile was quickly erased, replaced with that apologetic grin that Renjun secretly, secretly ~~love~~ loathe. 

“Courtesy, man, courtesy.” Mark answered with a light laughter as they made their way through the university’s entrance. His hands, now warm because Renjun shared some self-heating packets with him, kneaded his shoulders in a slightly awkward way. 

“Never knew you have one of those…”

Renjun’s words trailed to an end, together with the pace of his walking, when they made the corner into the main hub of their university and saw that it was _bustling_ with people. 

Festively decorated stalls flanked both sides of the main lane. And in between, kids, students, families, strangers, flocked around like a slowly migrating group of birds to have their fill on whatever food, beverages, or souvenirs were being offered in this… _winter market._

“Ohoho,-”

“Don’t you dare.”

Mark spun him around, so he could look right into Renjun’s eyes when he delivered his killing blow. “Didn’t you tell me,-”

_“Stop it.”_

But Renjun’s warnings didn’t deter Mark in the slightest. The grin that was growing on his lips? It screamed _‘I told you so’._ “,- that you really want to visit a Christmas market?”

Renjun was silent for a long while. Though, at the end of it, the smell of what came out of the nearest stall to them (cinnamon sugar-sprinkled chimney cake) melted him like it was a roaring fire, and Renjun was nothing more but a mere lump of soggy snow by the windowsill. “Yessss…….”

“So, if I didn’t _drag_ us here today, we won’t be able to see all this, won’t we?”

“If you don’t stop rubbing shit on my face, I demand you to pay for all of our purchases today.”

Mark laughed at that. So loudly, once again, that a group of people around them stopped whatever activities they were doing only to stare at them with surprise. “Oh come on! I still have a few minutes before my appointment. What should we get first?”

He skipped. _Literally_ skipped to the direction where Renjun pointed his middle finger to. Imagine. He was that enthusiastic to begin with. Can you imagine how _ecstatic_ he was after they started on the _gluhwein?_

One glass down, then a Belgian waffle. Another glass, and a nutella crepe. A _third_ serving, and then some scallion pancake. At the end of it, they’ve collected 3 sets of Christmas themed mugs and had resorted to sharing the beverage out of the thermos that Renjun took with him, the original content of it (hot tea), was unceremoniously dumped on the dead grass behind the drinks stall. 

“I should get one for my tutor,” Mark said, giggling. 

“Isn’t that some form of bribery?” Renjun asked, also giggling. 

“Courtesy, dear. Courtesy.” 

Warm alcohol really hit you differently because when Mark slung his arm around his shoulders and pulled him close for a big cuddle, instead of flinching and tensing up like how he usually would, Renjun accepted it with a side of free laughter. 

They stayed like that, huddling close and giggling like a pair of schoolchildren, up to and even inside Mark tutor’s office. 

“You can play outside, you know?” Mark told him when they were both already sitting primly and properly on the two empty chairs inside the office, his cheeks looking like two red Christmas baubles. Renjun’s brain was already swamped, his vision already sluggish and thought flowed through him like a physical chore. The words formed inside his brain one by one, placed on his mind space with chopsticks held by his non-dominant hand. 

“I can stay here, can’t I?” Renjun then looked at the tutor. Some thirty something year old who was physically trying his best not to burst out laughing at the sight of these dumb and dumber duo. Renjun knew that. He knew he was making a fool out of himself. But wine drunk is a different kind of drunk, at least for him. And so, when the tutor only shrugged half heartedly at his question, Renjun went and gave him an assault of cuteness so potent it left him nearly choking at the half empty gluhwein mug. 

(ps: it’s half empty not because they both drank it, but because they were both so wasted the content sloshed out of it as they made their way to the building.)

The tutor nodded, and with that, Renjun gave Mark a bright, victorious grin. 

Their conversation turned into a buzzing drone, talking about a topic he didn’t understand and was not in the mood to be interested in. So he swung his feet, and let his eyes wander around the room, vision blurring the pictures and certificates stuck on the wall into one big… glob… of amusing collection of colours. Like his painter palette at the end of a painting. Buzzy.

Buzzy? More like fuzzy.

Like, warm. _Very warm._ Has the room always been this hot? He thought. 

Suddenly, his attention was pulled to his lap, and his remaining four senses (plus his thought) came a-runnin’ to catch up with the registry of his brain that told him something had just gripped and pushed his right thigh down. Firm enough to stop his legs from bouncing against the floor.

When they _did_ catch up, it hit him like a whiplash. Mark’s hand. On his thigh. His right thigh. Mark’s warm, _big hands._ Renjun slowly looked up to see if perhaps Mark was mad at his annoying habit that would sometimes surface when his brain is inebriated. Was he? He wasn’t. He still talked with his tutor in an admirable attempt of passing off as sober in front of an authoritative figure. 

Has the room always been this _hot?_

Renjun began to sweat. The swirls on his vision ceased to be enjoyable and more like the rockings of a ship as it went through a patch of bad weather. So he trained his sight on his lap, which didn't help all that much, to be very honest. Mark’s fingers squeezed him at regular intervals, and it felt to him like the layer of jeans wasn’t there to begin with. Just skin. His warm skin. _Too hot, perhaps._

_‘Are we done here?’_ He thought. Or maybe he whispered. He asked? He yelled it out, maybe, from how rough Mark clamped down on him, his nails digging in before he slapped Renjun’s knee with the broad of his palm. 

“Just a bit more.” Mark’s words came to him like one of those 4D audio files. Far and echoey, while some syllables popped in so loudly against his ears, as yes, Mark had to lean closer and whisper his reassurance when his tutor was busy pulling up something on his desktop. 

“I think I need to go to the toilet.” Renjun said as he went to unwind his scarf, bundling it on his lap as beads of sweat continued to travel down his flushed forehead. 

“We will. Once I’m done with this.” 

So, Renjun waited, once again. Nearly ripping holes onto his knitted scarf as his breath started to pitch up into hitches. So much so, in fact, that he was only _this far_ from choking on his own tonsils. But before that could happen, the tutor finally said, “we’re done here,” after what felt like _months_ had come and went with the flash of an eye. If Renjun was anymore sober, he would’ve cringed from the amount of worry and pity imbued within those words. But he was _not_ sober. 

_“We’re done here.”_ So he just repeated the words, jumped onto his feet, gave the tutor a deep bow, before he dashed out of the _boiling room_ and to the direction of the nearest toilet. _Which_ he didn’t know _where._

It wasn’t his faculty’s building afterall. 

“Toilet??? Where is the toilet??!!” Renjun’s yell was muffled, as his palms were plastered tightly over his mouth for he felt as if the content of his stomach was waiting to jump out of the end of his esophagus and he was not planning on embarrassing himself even further (in front of nobody, actually, as the building was deserted).

All this happened and Mark, that bastard, ran after him and told him to wait, while he was _laughing his ass off._

_‘Turn right!’_ Renjun thought he heard something. But the faint lull of his auditory sense was nothing compared to his multicoloured, horse-glasses covered vision that’d just hyper-focused on a trash bin located just by the back door of the building. 

So he opened the lid, leaned over, and… for the lack of a better way of describing it, _vomited._ Mulch of food and that cursed wine, nearly a bottle worth, freely flowed from his mouth and onto the empty, thankfully trash-bag lined, bin. 

The nausea was nearly blinding and Renjun didn’t have the time, nor power, to notice what was happening around him until the tide receded some ten minutes later, where he could then crash down onto his knees. The only thing stopping him from completely curling himself into a fetal position was his fingers, who were petrified as hooks around the lip of the bin.

Mark, throughout all that, was laughing beside him. 

Though well… his hand, _still warm,_ was on his nape, giving it a massage so soft Renjun found himself leaning onto it, instead of the cold plastic surface of the trash bin.

“You’re good with your beer,” Mark finally filled the air with a sound much more appetising that the noise of drunk gagging and wet coughs. 

“It’s beer…” 

“You’re good with your soju?” 

Mark then ran the corner of Renjun’s own scarf across his glistening forehead, and as he’d just vomited during the day, at school, in a place where anyone could easily catch him, Renjun had no more constenance to spare. He leaned onto Mark’s hand fully and sighed, “it’s soju.” 

Mark chuckled at that, “well, it’s wine?”

“I’m bad with wine.” When Mark laughed, Renjun let out a similar sound, albeit weak, and riddled to the brim with exhaustion. 

“More for me, I guess.”

From the corner of his eyes, Renjun spotted the bright red glint of his thermos. “Mark, _please,”_ he let out a mighty groan, “stop it.”

“It’s water,” he said, before taking Renjun’s hand away from the bin and putting his curled fingers around the body of the thermos, “come on now, drink.” The first set of words that were not followed with a trail of laughter, and he just had to say it so softly. So nicely. If it weren’t for the chilly winter air that seeped in from the back door that was automatically opened due to how they two were standing around so closely to it, Renjun would’ve melted. Into a pile of goo whose only purpose in life was to like Mark Lee _way too much._

“Thanks.” And as proof of his gratitude, Renjun proceeded to down half of the bottle before using the remaining half to gargle out the sickeningly sweet taste of Christmas market spiced wine. Unfortunately, as he was tipping up for one last gurgle, Renjun’s eyes caught something that caused him to nearly snort the saliva-infused water down his lungs.

“What?” Mark asked, half worried and half curious, full time panicked that he was missing out on something wild. He quickly understood, though, and was riddled with a special kind of giggles, the _drunk_ kind, when he tilted his head following the lead of Renjun’s shaking index finger. 

“Who did this.” He flicked the plastic mistletoe bouquets that were taped to the corners of the door with black duct tape. Not even clear. _Black._

“That’s some zero effort trashy decoration.” Renjun, even when he was struggling to get back up on his feet, still had enough power to trash talk the, honestly, really awful, literally tacked on effort of bringing festivities to an otherwise sterile office space. Mark lent him a helping hand, along with an agreement, and Renjun took both without complaints.

“Probably horny professors who are looking for an excuse to start a make out session with their students.” Mark used his free hand, what with Renjun hanging onto the other one with his dear life, to rip the bundle away from the corners. He then combined it into one, manipulated the tape this way and that to turn it double sided, before slapping a now somewhat _presentable,_ bigger bundle, still plastic, bunch of mistletoe on the center of the entryway. 

Renjun let out a barely enthusiastic clap when Mark looked like he was satisfied with his hack job. But it was suddenly stopped, right in the middle of his hands’ journey of hitting one another, when Mark said something that, to be fair, was quite normal to be heard in this kind of situation. But so _normal,_ in fact, that Renjun never even _considered_ it ever happening to them, _ever._ Because Mark is not normal, right? He’s not supposed to be normal.

So when Mark said, “well, you know what this means,” with a wink to boot, Renjun responded with something that was _actually_ also normal. 

Normal, if he wasn’t harboring the biggest crush ever held by a living, breathing human being to another living, breathing human being. Not fictional. Not like those obsessive Snapewives, or something. Normal, as if they were really _friends._

And they were, weren’t they?

So shouldn’t it be normal for friends to joke underneath a plastic bouquet of mistletoe slapped onto a doorway with heavy duty duct tape? Normal, that Renjun responded to Mark’s egging with a quick kiss on his cheeks? A peck? A drunken… totally platonic smooch?

Mark’s cheek felt hot, even beneath Renjun’s swollen lips. And when he leaned away, putting his weight back onto his heels, Renjun immediately went to search for the answer of his action on Mark’s eyes. Wrong? Right? Proper? Too much? Funny? _Awful, dude, you didn’t say no homo what the fuck?_

They sparkled, the glint of the building’s starkly white lighting reflected nicely against the slightly reddened rim of his eyes. Just like normal. But what wasn’t normal was when his vision blurred, once again, even worse than when he was on the verge of throwing up, but even better than when he was trapped in the drunken visual hallucination inside the tutor’s office, when Mark suddenly charged onto him with a reciprocation.

Another kiss. This time on Renjun’s lips. 

This time, not a peck. And this time, platonicity to be questioned. 

It was too much, yet none whatsoever. Mark’s lips were hot, _scorching,_ and better than whatever pathetic mental replica his imagination has provided to him all this time. His teeth? Magnificent. When he so naturally breached any sense of decency and instantly honed down on Renjun’s tongue, he found himself ready to worship Dionysius as his only god for giving humans the ability to get so wine drunk, every bit of pressure on one’s body was turned into something so _delicious_. 

But then, Renjun had to curse the source of his joy in the same, harsh groan that was forced out of him when Mark bore down on him with his drunken steps and ruined his balance, causing Renjun to crash against the bin where they both skid along the slippery flooring until they hit the nearby utility locker. Curse it all to hell, when he closed his eyes and was assaulted with a case of vertigo so bad he had to claw at whatever was closest to him to reassure himself that he wasn’t falling. 

And he wasn’t. 

Well, to be fair, _he was,_ but only figuratively. 

Because he found out on that second that the inside of Mark’s hair was warm. Warmer, in fact, than his palm that’d slipped in through the underside of his shirt and was pressing onto the small of his back, bringing Renjun flush against a kiss that even then, he knew, he _would_ regret. Though at that moment, the regret manifested as a desperation to deepen it more. More. More. _More._

Renjun raked through his hair, pulling the strands near their base because he was, _he was falling,_ and was rewarded with a light sigh that made him forget that just minutes ago he would’ve vomited when presented with the strong smell of cinnamon spiced wine. Mark’s nails also raked along his skin in response, and Renjun let himself go with a defeated shudder. Not counting the seconds of their impossible kiss. Not thinking of what would happen if Mark’s tutor found them there, lips still pressed and bodies still embraced long after the kiss had ended because Renjun struggled so hard to get not only his bearings back, but also his courage. Because what if this was all a dream conjured up by his alcohol and sugar-laden brain? 

What if, he opened his eyes, and Mark were to look down on him with disgust on his?

Those eyes couldn’t have contained such negative emotion, could they? 

They were stars. What would you do if you looked up into the night sky and was greeted with the universe snarling down on you?

Renjun would’ve died. 

Though perhaps, he _did_ die. And now he was in his own special bubble of heaven, Supernatural style. Because he felt it, Mark’s fingers. Unmistakably his. Running across his burning cheeks, asking him, without needing to audibly speak, if he was _okay._

Renjun nodded to that. Slowly opening his eyes, still in silence. Forever in silence, it turned out to be, as he quickly understood the implication of their situation. Don’t say it, don’t think it. One word here and everything would have crumbled to an awkward mess of embarrassment and panic. So he allowed the residual emotion to flow around them like a chilly winter breeze. Normal. He had to make it normal. So he took Mark’s hand, warmer than ever, into his before pulling him away from his, no, _their_ fantasy nook and onto the faculty building’s front entrance. 

In silence.

They made their way through the main road of their university, still drunk with wine, excitement, and adrenaline, hand in hand, but in silence. 

The road back. Hand in hand. Silent understanding that they would head to Renjun’s place first, even if they live at the other sides of the city, together.

Something something, impaired judgment. Something something, touch starved. Renjun didn’t care. He leaned quietly on Mark’s shoulder when a pair of seat freed up for them to sit on, and Renjun allowed his desire, which was so rarely shown, to flow out of him together with the droves of drunkenness that seemed to be sapped out of him with each rumble of the subway ride that they took because they knew, a consensus that was reached without having to trade even a single word between the two of them, that a bus ride would mean a death sentence to one mister Huang Renjun. 

Hand in hand. All the way. Until lucidity came back to them after spending one too many minutes in the cold, and common sense took over them in the speed and force of a freight train. 

By the time they reached Renjun’s apartment building (at a record time of 6 PM), there was enough distance between them where a whole ass _tuk tuk_ can pass through comfortably. 

“See you tomorrow,” Mark said. The first word they exchanged ever since _then. That time._ Which, at that moment, with the sun already so far down the horizon that the sky was a single colour of light-polluted grey, felt like it happened a lifetime ago. 

He didn’t word it as a question. It was a clear statement. 

But Renjun still answered, after a long spell of hesitation. So long, in fact, that when he finally mustered up the courage to nod his head, he’d unknowingly completed the five floors of elevator ride and arrived in front of his apartment door. 

Alone. 

Looking around like a lost bird, Renjun had the small hope that Mark would somehow, magically, miraculously, round up the corner to catch up with him. _‘I had to throw away some trash,’_ he might’ve said, _‘there’s a recycling bin. Why not?’_

In this case, perhaps _Renjun_ was the trash. Because Mark did _not_ show up. He waited there, in the tepid hall, for minutes on end and no one, except for the mother and son that walked past him with increased caution, appeared over the bend. 

Forlorn, Renjun beeped himself in and, without bothering to take off his coat, threw himself face first onto his unmade bed. 

Well, well, well. So _it’d_ happened. The dreaded. The much coveted. A major breakthrough in the universal game of _is he or is he not,_ because turns out, _he might?_

Renjun should’ve rejoiced, no?

Here's the thing. Another reason why Renjun never really wanted to pursue his secret feelings towards Mark is because he’s, well, he _told_ everyone that he’s straight. 

Also another reason why everyone in the _Renjun & Mark winter adventure _ -watcher group chat talked big, but never had any actions to back it up. Why they chimed in, day in and day out, teasing, laughing, _trying to make him suffer less,_ as they must’ve all, independently and in their own personal time, unanimously agreed that the idea of having to spend arguably the most romantic bit of the year (if done right, and god dammit have they been doing it right) together with a crush that everyone knew would never be reciprocated, would always be excruciating.

But…

But straight boys don’t kiss other boys underneath a plastic mistletoe bouquet, don’t they? 

Or perhaps they do? And Renjun has been missing the wild makeout parties done by his highschool football team all this time? That would be a pity… 

He let out a long sigh, and allowed his spiraling mind to sink him under the folds of his lumpy blanket. 

_Let tomorrow come and bring whatever tomorrow holds,_ he thought. _If he hates me for coming onto him, good._

_But if he likes it?_

Renjun found himself smiling at the memory. _Grinning derangedly, actually,_ into his pillow when he rubbed his fingers together and could still feel the sleekness of Mark’s hair wax. Smell it from the underside of his nails. 

_That would be even better._

  
  


_

  
  


_‘Fellas…  
_ _…………’  
_ _-long john_

_‘?????’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘Fellas is it gay to kiss ur homie under the mistletoe?’  
_ _-long john_

_‘YooOOOooOooO!!  
_ _But no not really i don’t think so’  
_ _-Lucas_

_‘!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
_ _???????????’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘_ 🤭🤭🤭 _’  
_ _-Nana_

_‘_ 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 _’  
_ _-Nono_

_‘WAIT NO SERIOUSLY  
_ _YOU KISSED HIM?  
_ _MARK????  
_ _IM A CHILD OF JESUS MARK?????  
_ **_@long john_ ** _!!!!!!!!  
_ _DID YOU???  
_ _RENJUUUUUUN!!!!!!!!’  
_ _-Big D_

  
  


_ _ _

  
  


Renjun basically wasted the **eleventh** day of winter holiday. Handing it to the hands of Anxiety God in a silver platter and a red bow on top. 

He paced around his small apartment, ignoring the way that his chat app was pinging around like crazy, a mirror of how his own brain was pounding with a headache caused by his wine-hangover, because he didn’t find the _need_ to open it. He knew the ones pinging him were not Mark anyway. 

Eleven, twelve, one, _two._

No. Nothing. No calls, no chats, no bells, no letters, no apparition. Not even any news. Literally. Renjun went and obsessively searched up any freak accidents that happened that morning or last night because death, or serious maiming, would’ve been more palatable on his sand-paper-like tongue than _complete radio silence because he realised he’d done the worst drunken act in his entire lifetime. To date._

Or probably ever. 

Because even _Renjun_ thought that it was the most fucking stupid think he’d ever done in his lifes. Yes, plural. Including any past _and_ future attempts he got and will get living on this wretched Earth, yesterday’s lapse in judgement would’ve easily rank in his top three. 

Three, four, _five PM_ and still. Nothing. 

He could do _nothing._ Because what? What _could_ he do, really? Renjun tried calling Mark on his phone, five times, to be exact, in the span of fifteen minutes starting from when the clock struck twelve. Texting? Yes. He’d spammed so much _‘are you okay’_ in their barren chat that he knew, if he were to send _one more,_ they would’ve been nuked back to square one of _‘how do you do?’_ level of awkwardness the next time they meet. Should he visit Mark’s apartment? He thought about that, and for what? To be called as a creep and have Mark write him a restraining order? Nothing. He could do nothing, and he was so _anxious_ from all this that he was _this close_ from ripping his hair out by the bunch. 

Needing something to busy his fingers on, he decided to finally pick up his phone. Mistake number one, and opened up the group chat that’d exploded to a massive tome of 300+ messages since the last time he checked it last night. Easily, mistake number two.

_‘He kissed me,’_ Renjun wrote, after he skimmed through the wall of text, _‘well, to be fair, I kissed him first. On the cheek! Totally innocent??!’_ … yeah right. Before Mark then turned it all around with something that would make even a Lifetime movie director blush from how… romantic it all were. 

_‘It’s not my fault, is it???’  
_ _-long john_

_‘Can I PLEASE change my name  
_ _Looking at that makes me want to throw my phone against the wall’  
_ _-renjun_

_‘So it //is// gay to kiss your homie underneath the mistletoe, huh?’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘Donghyuk I will kill you when we meet next time.  
_ _I will’  
_ _-renjun_

_‘He just needs some time to process this :((  
_ _Really, i also was like this way back when’  
_ _-Lucas_

_‘But it’s been… idk…  
_ _One whole ass day since it happened  
_ _Six since he woke up  
_ _Three since he finished disinfecting his mouth, probably’  
_ _-renjun_

_‘Dude. don’t do this to yourself.’  
_ _-Nana_

_‘Im just!  
_ _Im just…  
_ _If he  
_ _If this ruins our friend group  
_ _Its my fault’  
_ _-renjun_

_‘??? HE kissed you!’  
_ _-Nana_

_‘But maybe?? If he didn’t know that im..??  
_ _If he didn’t suspect that i might..?  
_ _If he didn’t think that it was possible???  
_ _It wont?? Happen in the first place???’  
_ _-renjun_

_‘No, man  
_ _He made the move  
_ _Means he’s been hoping that it could be possible’  
_ _-Nono_

_‘Yeah, just let him be for a while  
_ _It’s totally normal, trust me’  
_ _-Lucas_

_‘Stop being dumb  
_ _Get something to eat.  
_ _I bet you haven’t had anything since you woke up’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘;; that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me ;;  
_ _It’ll be perfect if you can transfer me my share of winnings ;;;  
_ _50k, right?’  
_ _-renjun_

_‘Yeah 50k_ **_@Big D_ ** _pay up’  
_ _-Nana_

_‘....................  
_ _Fine.’  
_ _-Big D_

_‘WOO! You’re gonna put a roof over my head man!’  
_ _-Lucas_

  
  


___

  
  


Renjun wiped the budding tears from the corner of his eyes, and bounced up from his winter depression nest. Donghyuk was right. Food. Let’s get some food first. It might give him a boost of ideas for what he could do next. Or some energy to execute the stupid ones his tired brain’d managed to concoct. Or, if anything, it could help take his mind away from the looming passage of time, and the hope that it would bring good news to his pathetically waiting hands. 

As he still wore his coat from yesterday (yes, don’t judge), Renjun didn’t really need to prepare much for his trip down to his usual Chinese restaurant haunt. Didn’t even bother to brush his hair, or his teeth too, while we’re at it. Just a dazed, hungover college kid making his way out of his apartment building. What’s so odd in that?

What’s odd, was his luck, of course. Or the complete lack of it. 

Because lo and behold, who stood before him when the elevator opened?

Mark.

Of course, it was Mark.

Renjun was so shocked by this sudden apparition. Mark too, was so shocked, that he was caught red handed essentially creepily stalking someone (Renjun was so glad he didn’t execute this plan because imagine if the situation was reversed. He wouldn’t have any face left to show to anyone for the rest of his life), that they didn’t move even a single muscle, not until the clunky elevator door began to close in front of their noses. To that, Renjun jolted awake and jumped out of the metal box, all the while staring bewilderedly at Mark as he stammered, “what… the heck are you doing here??” 

Mark, bless him, also stammered through his answer. “I have… an errand… to run around here… and I thought I’d… you know…” _You know… what?_ Mark’s words fizzled to an unsatisfying end and Renjun wanted to coax some explanation out, even if he didn’t really need to, even if yes, he _knew_ Mark’s _you know_ , so well that it could’ve just as easily written on the walls of his heart _._ Renjun stopped himself short from doing so, because he felt _bad._ One of the rare times that he felt like it, as Mark sounded so defeated. His head too hung low, like a dog’s tail that was tucked in between their legs, waiting to be reprimanded as they knew they’d done a massive mistake. Or maybe he was collecting his courage to say an apology, perhaps?

It didn’t matter, though, all of them didn’t matter because Renjun was too busy being so _glad_ that he could finally see Mark. Just Mark. And he was okay, and he wasn’t angry or at least he didn’t _look_ angry and, god help him, was apologetic enough to come seek him in his place, fifteen stops away from his own home. 

He wanted to blame what he did next to whatever leftover alcohol still left behind in the recesses of his brain. But he couldn’t. 

It was just him. Just Renjun, who walked up to Mark and pulled him into a relieved hug. 

No words. 

If yesterday taught them anything positive, it was that sometimes, they didn’t need to exchange words to get their message across. From the way Mark clutched the back of his coat, and the way he buried his nose onto the high collar of Renjun’s shirt, he understood. And Renjun also hoped, also _knew,_ that Mark would understand him from the way his hand ran comfortably through the tresses of his tangled hair. Unbrushed. Just like his.

Renjun wondered then, if Mark also paced in circles in his spacious living room, just like him? Wider circles, of course, but circles nevertheless. Did Yukhei comfort him with his newly found source of confusion in his already confusing life? Did Jaemin? Did Donghyuk heckle him, just like he did to Renjun? 

Maybe, at the end of this all, they should take Mark into the group chat, and tell him all the secrets that Renjun had been keeping from him. He thought, at that moment, in that warm embrace, that it would not be that bad of an idea after all.

(But that idea was quickly scratched the moment he saw another one of Jaemin’s dirty what ifs fantasy, that cropped back into the group chat once everyone knew that the situation has been solved. What started in Mark Lee’s fan group stays in Mark Lee’s fan group _indeed.)_

“We’ll be okay, right?” Mark broke the comfortable silence they were in with a little whisper. The air, seeping out of his lips that were very nearly pressed flush against Renjun’s neck, tickled the baby hairs around them. It caused Renjun to let out a light laughter.

“We’ll be okay.” It wasn’t a lie, too. Not just an empty consolation to comfort Mark in that moment alone. Renjun _was_ being truthful with his words. They’re good. They’re cool. _Everything really_ is _okay._ “Just take it slow,” he added.

Mark nodded his head to that, and tightened up his hold over Renjun. Just for a split second, before then putting a hold to their very public comforting session by pushing Renjun away, comically, when they both heard the loud sound of the elevator’s arrival. The same mother and child that yesterday stared funnily at Renjun walked past them, still with a suspicious look on her face. 

Mark looked at him as if he was requesting for a possible explanation. No time to elaborate on that, though. 

“I thought I won’t see you today,” Renjun said once they were at the clear. A shy smile hung crooked on Mark’s lips as he was ushered along the lobby by a Renjun who’d slowly grown enthusiastic to hear what journey he’d gone through that day.

“I promised, didn’t I?” Mark mumbled, shyly, and it nearly caused Renjun to break down in an endeared coo.

He managed to hold it back enough to shoot back a teasing jab, “what? You can’t get enough of me?”

Something was broken between them. Whatever _that_ was, Renjun found out that _it_ was gone, as he found himself completely comfortable to take his place beside Mark. This special, abnormal human being who before that day, Renjun would never imagined he could pull into a round of fun, flirty banter.

Mark seemed to also be surprised with the direction in which their relationship was unfolding, as he responded to Renjun’s words first with a stunned gawk, before laughter bubbled through his lips. Turning whatever awkwardness he had to reassurance that no matter what, _everything would end up alright._

“I’ve spent every day of the last week with you. Isn’t the answer clear enough?” A wave of confidence seemed to ruffle through Mark’s limbs. He stood straighter, smiled brighter, his eyes nearly shone like two bulbs on a string of fairy lights, and Renjun looked at them as if he was just a moth. Completely and helplessly mesmerised. 

“So, what now? Dinner?”

Renjun had to swallow the huge ball of silly, happy giggles before he could even _hope_ to give Mark an answer. “You bet.”

“What? Hot pot again?”

Renjun couldn’t bear it any longer. He let his laughter burst out of his lips, aching as they were already pulled in a smile for so long, before he once again _indulged_ the hunger that ran through the very base of his stomach. Letting its rumbles fuel the trajectory of his fingers as they trailed across Mark’s cheek that still held a little bit of his embarrassed blush. Let’s turn the reason behind it to be a bit more positive, shall we? “All it took was like, what? Ten days to know me so well?”

His heart nearly leaped out of his throat when Mark, still slightly awkward but was so admirable in his desire to _experience more things,_ turned his head just a little and brushed his lips against Renjun’s pinky. “Of course,” he said, and Renjun didn’t even bother to hide the ecstatic grin that bloomed onto his face. “Also, as an apology, please let me pay.” 

_“God bless you Mark Lee.”_

  
  


_ _ _

  
  


“Go on, open it.”

“... _I’m scared.”_

On the **twelfth** day of winter holiday, both Renjun and Mark agreed that they were too lazy and too tired to go out and do anything other than order some food and laze around in Renjun’s apartment.

(Yes, Mark spent last night at Renjun’s place. _Again_ . No, _that certain someone_ from the group chat didn’t take that information well. _‘Chill? Nothing major happened???’_ he typed. _‘We slept fully clothed???’_ Safe to say: _no explanation mattered.)_

(Oh, Mark was also inducted into his own fan group last night, much to his amusement. Renjun tried to dissuade him from doing so by telling him horror stories. He was not deterred a single bit.)

(Yukhei was very ecstatic that they finally had a group chat with all six of them in it. Renjun was just glad Mark couldn’t see the backlogged chats of the group. Donghyuk, oddly, grew to be very quiet.)

They were lounging on the bean bags at the corner of Renjun’s living room. Yes, you read that correctly. Bean _bags._ Plural. Because last night, after they were done having dinner, they walked past a home and living store that prominently featured a baby blue bean bag on its displays and Mark wasn’t able to let it pass. _‘You have to get that,’_ he said. 

_‘And the money?’_ Renjun asked, exasperatedly.

_‘Didn’t you just get some from Donghyuk?’_ The way he said it, the _secret,_ so nonchalantly like that, caused Renjun to nearly have a heart attack. 

_‘So you knew?’_

_‘Jeno told me. So yeah.’_

_‘What else… did he tell you.’_

_‘Not much,’_ he paused, and Renjun was relieved. But then he continued, and it caused Renjun to groan in embarrassment. _‘But enough to guess the complete picture, eh?’_

It doesn’t last long, though. With the confirmation that _yes,_ his winning money for the bet (that turns out wasn’t much of a _secret_ after all) has been transferred to his account, Renjun and Mark rushed into the store for their very first impulsive purchase as a team of two. 

It was a decision that Renjun couldn’t learn to regret. Because the thing really _is_ comfortable. And the joy that he got from sitting beside Mark as they channel surf while drinking hot chocolate out of mugs they horde from their university’s Christmas market, _on Christmas day,_ was priceless. 

But as usual, calm couldn’t really stay for long if the two of them were in the same room. Because Mark was suddenly startled out of his calm when he remembered that, “hey! You haven’t told me if you like your gift or not!”

And so there he was, sitting nervously on his new bean bag, cradling the small box on his lap and trying his best to pass the obligation to open it to something, or _someone_ else.

“You open it.” Renjun threw the box at Mark.

“The hell? It’s _your_ gift! You open it!” Mark said, placing the box back to Renjun’s trembling fingers. After seeing them do nothing to open it, and instead twitched like dead frog legs in saline solution, Mark sighed. “What are you so nervous for? It’s just a gift.”  
  


“From _you.”_

“Yeah, obviously. I can see that. I bought it.”

With a little lot of force, Renjun braved himself and looked Mark squarely in his eyes. Mark’s seen his embarrassed, terrifyingly red face before. He should be fine seeing another one, right?

Wrong. Because turns out, such a sight was enough to also cause a blush to burn his cheeks into the same colour as the bean bag he was sitting on. Neon pink. Mark began to blubber over nothing with a case of the giggles.

“I will open it, if you open mine at the same time.” 

Not waiting for Mark’s response to that proposition, Renjun shot out from his seat and disappeared into his utility closet. Pretending to have a hard time searching for the dreadful Christmas gift even if the monstrosity was _staring at him the whole time through._

Renjun wished he could just disappear into the darkness of the closet. Wished that Narnia would magically appear beyond the piles of toilet paper and his vacuum cleaner. But then he heard Mark calling out to him. 

“Do you need help?” He asked. 

He did _not._ And Renjun knew that Mark _would_ go and help him, even if he told him not to, if he stayed in that closet any longer. So, rather than making even more fuss, Renjun resigned himself to his fate and grabbed the painting, which was wrapped haphazardly with magazine pages because he was too cheap to go out and buy a roll of wrapping paper. 

“Yo. This is unfair.” Mark said when he was handed his gift. “You got me _this_ and I got you _that?”_ He pointed at the small box, already returned to the careful yet anxious hold of Renjun’s palms.

“Quality trumps… size.” Renjun sat back down, and could only laugh nervously when Mark began to rip the papers apart. His stomach churned when a strip of colour peeked from between the wrappings. And when Mark glanced at him with his eyes wide excitement, when he’d dug deep enough that he could _tell_ that it was a painting of some sort, Renjun could _taste_ the half digested toast they had for breakfast peeking from behind his tonsils. 

It was an awful feeling.

Mark was looking at his painting, and he felt like he was nearly dying. 

“What do you think?” Renjun asked, anxious that a literal minute has passed since Mark began to critically look at his painting and still he hasn’t said anything. “Do you… do you like it? I mean uh,- I really rushed it out I’m really sorry I should’ve,-”

Mark cut his nervous blabber short when he finally looked away from the painting, and on towards Renjun. “Is this how you’ve been seeing me?”

It was such an odd question. Renjun stuttered for a full five seconds before he could ask Mark for some clarification, “I… I don’t follow.”

“Is this how I look to you?” Mark’s elaboration didn’t really do anything to help Renjun understand what he _meant._ Worse yet, it caused Renjun to think that oh god, he’s severely insulted _Mark Lee_ by painting a self portrait that doesn’t look anywhere near him _oh lord, he hates it. He think I see him as an ugly blob of incomprehensible amoeba oh god why did you make me be this talentless this is my biggest shame I,-_

“Because I think I just fell in love with myself.”

Renjun was, of course, instantly silenced when he heard that. Empty. Just… just a leaf breezing through the wind. 

_I don’t follow,_ he mouthed. 

Mark, face red as a beet Mark. Hands shaking because he was nervous Mark. Coughing because he had to dispel his tension Mark, who laughed faintly as he patted Renjun’s cheek before he went in, unsure yet willing, to give him a small kiss on the right corner of his lips. Renjun found himself not being able to follow him.

Not at all.

But it didn’t really matter, turns out, because Mark was more than willing to hold his hand and help Renjun continue down the road that they’ve been traversing since, oh, yesterday night?

Renjun looked down, still silent, still dazed, and saw that Mark had taken the lid off his very own Pandora’s box. 

It was a pin. An enamel pin. A very simple, unassuming, factory produced pin. 

After a little bit of time passed, in which Renjun struggled to internalise the non-stop assault that his surroundings were giving to his psyche, he noticed something. Mark’s hand, that laid on top of his, was starting to shake.

“How could you know…” at first, his voice came out only as a whisper. But after he heard Mark’s relieved sigh, he repeated his words again, now with much more fire and excitement behind them. “How could you know?!”

“God, I thought you hate it,-”

“No! I’m serious! You,-?” Renjun, too excited for his own good, rushed out of his seat and grabbed his painting bag from behind his easel. There, on one of the straps, is a tiny _Moomin_ pin that he’s had since god knows when. And there, inside the box, is _also_ a tiny pin. Of _Snufkin._ He’s been wanting to get once since _forever,_ but never really _did._ Until then.

“I saw you with it once!” Mark said, his smile so bright it was blinding, “I thought this would complete the set! Well, I hope it does?”

It was a pin. It was _just_ a pin. He shouldn’t feel this _happy_ over a pin, should he? Probably so.

But well, if he laughed, so much that he started tearing up, if he got the courage to give Mark a hug, and rain thankful kisses on his cheeks while saying _it does, it does, it does!_ because of a pin, what else could he do?

Nothing. 

Because the pin wasn’t really just a pin, was it? And the painting also wasn’t _just_ a painting. Just like how his hug wasn’t just a hug, and how Mark’s hand, patting him softly as they both wind their laughters down into a calm silence, served as more than just a mere kind gesture. 

Nothing more needed to be said, that was true, but their happiness was ripe for the pickings and Renjun decided, to hell with it. _Let’s have a go at it._ “Thank you so much,” so Renjun said, “and Merry Christmas.” Still gigglish, still sitting on Mark’s lap, still, so close to his face as Mark made sure to keep him that way with his hands securely placed over his nape. 

_“Merry Christmas to you too,”_ Mark whispered back as he pushed Renjun away, only slightly, only so that he could help Renjun wipe the bud of tears away from his cheek and help guide him to land a kiss on his lips, this time. Something quick. Something really awkward and undiscussed as they didn’t really need to discuss them. At least not yet. 

At least not until the winter holidays are over and they have to face the bombardment of questions courtesy of their friends, and Donghyuk’s wrath on top. 

But there were still like… oh, I don’t know, _nine_ days before that?

So…

Anything can happen in nine days… right?

“What do you want to do next?” Mark asked. 

Renjun responded only with a mischievous smirk. But at that point, it was _more_ than enough information for the two of them.

  
  
  


_On the thirteenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me … ?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TADAA!!  
> The second leg doneee!
> 
> Yes it's a few days past Christmas but i hope by reading this you can still get into that festive mood :P
> 
> Again, @cindyginthedia i hope you like this! i had the most fun writing this ;;  
> I'm so glad this is the story that closes the year tbh!!
> 
> Have a nice holiday and Happy New Year everyone!


	3. on the flip side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Mark through the looking glass._  
>   
>  A peek into Mark’s thoughts during certain moments of the main story.

_If only he was a girl…_

  
  


Mark went through a life where that particular thought often pops into his mind in random moments. 

A team mate from his elementary school’s football varsity team. 

The boy who shared a table with him during secondary school chemistry lab.

His high school best friend of three years. 

Jaemin, when Mark saw his charmingly toothy grin for the first time. 

A coworker from the store he part-timed in. 

Yukhei, when he introduced himself with a broken Korean and a very cheery wave. 

And Renjun. Who always avoided his gaze every time he tried to strike a conversation, but would always manage to leave snippets of his words echoing within his mind days after they spoke. 

He found himself cheering when he learned that Renjun was the one who got left behind with him. The premise of spending their winter holiday together, just the two of them, painted to him a very… pleasant picture.

When they sat at the cafe, the first time they ever hung out without the presence of anyone else from their friend group, Mark was proven correct. 

Breezy. Effortless. Slightly awkward but very amusing. 

_If he was a girl… I could learn to really like him._

  
  


_ _ _

  
  


Mark was thankful that Renjun wasn’t a girl, for the first time since they were first introduced by Donghyuk, on the day when he walked out of the neighbourhood ice skating rink with a wet patch on his pants from how often his bum kissed the surface of the ice. 

If he _was_ a girl, then Mark has a suspicion that he wouldn’t be able to have so much fun on the ice rink, just freely flapping around like a fool without having to worry about his image, or whatever else the source for his usual worries were. 

Pride. Saving face. The need to always come across as someone well put together. 

Renjun took his hands as he dragged him around the rink like a reluctant donkey, and Mark knew that he must’ve looked so stupid. But he was having _so much fun_ that he didn’t mind gathering stares from other people on the rink by how loudly they laughed. How dramatically he fell. Or, how dumb he acted when he crawled along the ice on all fours to catch up with Renjun when he dared Mark to play a round of tag. 

The thought flitted back to him, though. Still.

When they sat, sprawled on the rubbered floor of the rink’s bathroom as Renjun used a damp paper towel to clean a scratch wound on Mark’s palm. “Wait here, ass.” Renjun’s giggles trailed behind him when he left Mark on the floor so he could get another clean strip of toilet paper.

Mark watched his back as Renjun worked to prepare the makeshift first aid help. Folding up the strip, running it briefly under ice cold tap water. Walking back to his side with so much sureness and coordination on his bladed boots that Mark could only envy him. 

Renjun then kneeled beside him. Leaned over him and so carefully dabbed the cool tissue on his tiny, inconsequential cut while throwing kind insults at his odd upbringing. To that, he found himself wishing,

_If only…_

__ _ __

  
  


Remember the day when they managed to cross their winter holidays activities at the nick of time? When they both spent nearly an hour sitting on the porch of a cafe in the middle of winter, cradling paper cups of hot chocolate that turned cold in a matter of minutes?

Mark only _pretended_ to enjoy the lights and Christmas decoration on that moment. 

In all actuality, he was busy observing the way… Renjun observed _him._

It was odd. The way Renjun looked at him was. As if he was trying to memorise every little detail on his face, putting the contours of his profile on muscle memory as Renjun’s fingers freely danced on a phantom sketch with his thighs as his canvas. 

It was odd...

Nobody’s ever looked at him that way. With such intensity that Mark started to wonder, shouldn’t he be discomforted by this? 

Oddly, he didn’t. _Oddly,_ he quite enjoyed the attention. The watered down reverence that Renjun was giving him. 

The realisation caused an embarrassed smile to pop on his lips, and Mark noticed how it led Renjun to slightly flinch on his seat. He didn’t acknowledge it, though. Because he wanted the moment to stretch a little longer. Just a little. 

Maybe, until Renjun noticed how red his fingers had gotten where he would then take them into his warm palms and rub it together until they were no longer numb. 

Mark did say that he didn’t want Renjun’s heat packs. But he found himself thinking that: _if only he was a girl._ He wouldn't mind sharing them if it meant that he could put his hands into Renjun’s coat pocket. 

  
  


_ _ _

  
  


Mark saw Renjun’s face on that morning after he spent a night at his place. An activity he would’ve never done if Renjun was a girl.

Mark saw Renjun’s face, blushing and glowing so brightly with happiness, and something within him seemed to snap in half. His thorax, maybe? His brain stem? The chambers of his heart? His spine? Considering how quickly he whipped himself back to face the dining table, it wouldn’t have been too far of a speculation. 

Mark knew that Renjun… likes men. And women too. And whoever in between. He told their friend group that once, when he defended Yukhei’s ‘ _I genuinely think everyone is attractive’_ outlook to all of his potential romantic-slash-sexual match from Jaemin’s heckling. 

_‘I don’t mind anyone at all,’_ he remembered Renjun saying those words so casually, much to Mark’s awe, _‘as long as they’re not smelly, that is.’_

It was such an unthinkable concept to him, liking people without boundaries, that Mark found himself being kept awake by it every night for probably the next month or so.

Could he ever do that? Liking someone without conditions like that?

He also wondered, has someone ever _seen_ him that way? He found himself wishing that someone had. 

Such a concept gave him an odd sense of…specialness. Because when someone picked him out of an equal field, then they must’ve liked him very much, right?

As in, out of anyone they could’ve picked, they chose to like _him._

It sounded too good to be true. And the impossibility of it caused Mark to quickly dismiss it to the back of his mind. 

The thought was on its surefire way to be forgotten until _then._

Until he saw, full on this time, the way Renjun _looked_ at him. It cemented Mark’s suspicion that it wasn’t a look someone should have for a _mere friend._

His dream. Could it be _true?_

_If only he was a girl,_ Mark silently chanted as he rushed his way out of Renjun’s apartment, fuelled by the fact that his thoughts were getting more and more cloudy the longer he spent his time within that small apartment. Sharing breakfast with an impossibility. He couldn’t stomach it. Not then. He had to get away from there. Fast.

So he lied, even if he didn’t want to. Mark paid for it dearly when he heard the way Renjun asked him to stay. 

_I don’t mind that?_

The slight desperation in it nearly caused him to choke on a feeling he couldn’t even begin to name. 

Mark only found himself capable of taking a clear breath the moment the elevator door closed in front of his face. Flushed. Confused. 

_If only he was a girl… I would’ve stayed._

  
_ _ _

  
  


_He could be a girl,_ Mark said to himself. _I could pretend and see him as one._

Renjun’s shorter than him, that’s one. His voice is light, slightly mumblish, slightly whiny from it being a little nasal. His hair was long enough that Mark could trick himself into thinking it was a layered pixie cut. 

His shoulders are small, easily held underneath his arms when Mark started to lose the grip on his reservations after they drank their second cup of warm spiced wine at the winter market. 

His fingers are slender, just like his neck. Mark didn’t even think twice before he started to massage it to help ease Renjun out of his nauseated misery. 

When he leaned on Mark, Renjun felt light. His _touches_ were light. His tired, drunken laughter was light. And his kiss on Mark’s cheek, too, was light.

When Renjun blushed, it softly spread across the bridge of his nose. 

_I can see it,_ the thought flitted back to Mark when Renjun looked at him in search of a validation, further weakening his hesitation just by virtue of how gentle he seemed then. _I totally can._

And he did. 

And it felt… good. And it felt… the same, as all the times he’s done it before. 

Normal. It was totally normal. So much so that Mark momentarily forgot _who_ he was doing it with. _What_ the implication of him kissing Renjun like this could be. And so Mark kissed him deeper. 

It was not something that _mere friends_ are supposed to do… right? 

_I can, I can, I can._ He did his walk back home in a daze. 

Reality only crashed down on him when he sat on his sofa in his dark living room, in a silence so thick they began to ring in his ears. Still, it failed in drowning the thoughts rumbling in his mind.

Renjun wasn’t a girl, was he? _He’s a guy._

(Well, at least nobody's told him otherwise.)

Mark pressed the tips of his fingers on his chapped lips and tried to go back to his earlier mindset. 

_I can. I can see it. I_ have _to._

But in the end, Mark’s mind wouldn’t part from the clear memory of _him._ Just Renjun. Melting within his arms. Looking at him in a way that made Mark wonder, _what? What are you seeing? Me? Do I really look that interesting to you?_

He resigned himself to the weight of his realisation with a shuddering sigh. 

_I really_ do _like him._

  
  


_ _ _

  
  


Gathering courage to face himself after his bout of self-discovery was hard enough. 

Facing Renjun? 

It seemed impossible to him. 

Impossible, not because he was ashamed of himself and was embarrassed to show his face to someone who’s essentially caught him with his pants down before he himself noticed that _his pants were down_ , but because he wanted it _so much_ that it scared him.

Mark woke up the next morning nearly buzzing in anticipation. He wanted to see Renjun. _Needed it,_ in fact. 

But that intense pull? He’s never felt it before. And it terrified him to the bone. 

Too much of something can never be good, right? Mark began to pace around his bedroom while biting down on his nails. What to say, what to do. How to act? Who was he? Who was _he?_ Why did it have to be Renjun that he finally let his age-old desire slip? Because he looked more effeminate compared to the other so called _man crushes_ of his? 

He felt bad. He felt… guilty, even. 

Mark was starting to get dizzy from the amount of thoughts and emotion running through his head that he did the unthinkable. 

He reached out for his phone. Trying his best to avoid acknowledging the long list of missed calls and worried text from the source of his panic and punching the call button to, honestly, the last person he would’ve thought could help him in matters of romance before that day. 

But Mark distinctly remembered how Jeno told him that he awakened something in him he never thought he had. All this time Mark thought he was joking. He only gave in at that moment and admitted that it was anything but. 

  
  


_ _ _

  
  


_‘Look, do you like him as him?’_

_‘… what do you mean.’_

_‘When you think about him, do you_ see _him?’_

Mark couldn’t stop himself from playing, and replaying, and _replaying once more,_ his earlier conversation with Jeno while he made his way to Renjun’s apartment. Jeno, bless him, was kind enough to stay calm instead of giving Mark the dreaded response of blowing things out of proportion.   
  


There’s a reason why he called Jeno instead of Donghyuk for help in the first place, you know...

_‘Of course? What do you mean?’_

_‘Then it doesn’t matter.’_

_‘… I don’t get it.’_

_‘Mark, having a preference is not a sin.’_

He hesitated on pressing the button to call the elevator to his floor. So long, in fact, that it was called away from him once again. It was the third time it’d happened since he arrived at Renjun’s apartment approximately 15 minutes ago. No matter how hard he psyched himself for it, he just couldn’t make himself _do the final stretch._

_‘Did you also feel this way?’_

_‘Yes. Way worse too, because you didn’t like me back.’_

_‘… Sorry.’_

_‘You’re good, you’re good. I’m just joking.’_

Mark steeled his resolve as he watched the number displayed on top of the elevator door decrease further and further. He’ll do it. He’ll jump in after this one.

_‘So… do you think Renjun really likes me?’_

_‘That’s for you to find out.’_

_‘Oh…’_

_‘Just know that there’s a bet happening between all of us, and what you did yesterday made us win big time.’_

_‘How big?’_

_‘That’s also for you to find out.’_

Mark perked up in anticipation when the elevator finally arrived on the ground floor, completely ready to at last make his jump inside and up so he could plead his case on Renjun who, he hoped, would understand and in turn not grow to be too mad of his abandonment afterwards.

Safe to say, _all of that,_ all of the scenarios playing in his mind, the script, the words, the apologies, were reaped clean from him when the doors opened, and he was _presented_ with his case. On a silver platter. With a purple bow on top. 

Renjun. Who appeared before him not as a dream. Not as a mirage of his fantasy, but a clear, physical, living and breathing human being, who stood before him with arguably the same amount of shock running in his veins, judging from how wide his eyes grew to be. 

And from then on, the thought never returned to his mind. 

No more _if only._

Just Renjun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me standing on a hill, screaming: if you ever think ‘if only [person] is not the same gender as me i would rly consider dating them’, you’re most likely lgbt, fellas!!!!!
> 
> Aka this is just basically a story of what happened to me during my journey to figure out my sexuality lmao 
> 
> Just wanna round up the year with something tiny and sweet!! Hope this clarifies a little bit of how the events unfolded from Mark’s pov. Thank you to @smfili, your comment is the final push needed for me to write this extra tidbit :p
> 
> I hope that yall enjoyed it!!
> 
> hmu @ my twitter [@moon__soil](https://twitter.com/moon__soil)  
> or @ my tumblr (which nowadays I frequent more often) [@heibaihuangzi](https://heibaihuangzi.tumblr.com/)


End file.
